


The Graveyard Shift

by PurgatoryJar, riseofthefallenone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Creature Castiel, Creature Fic, F/F, F/M, Firefighter Dean, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, art included in every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 421,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurgatoryJar/pseuds/PurgatoryJar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseofthefallenone/pseuds/riseofthefallenone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s favourite coffee shop, <em>The Graveyard Shift</em>, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.</p><p> </p><p> <strong>Updates every 2nd Tuesday</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've done one, but I'm happy to announce that _The Graveyard Shift_ is a collaboration with the ever wonderful [Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)! We are delighted to bring you this finely crafted and meticulously plotted creation of ours, chock full of my writing and her beautiful (truly _gorgeous_ ) artwork! 
> 
> Keep in the know with updates, teasers, artwork and more at [#graveyardshiftAU](http://tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU) on Tumblr! Or, if you're so inclined, give us both a follow at [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com) and [Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)!

__

_ _

**_Wednesday – September 23_ ** **_ rd _ ** **_, 2015_ **

It’s three in the fucking morning and all Dean wants to do right now is sleep. He’s pretty sure that if he let his eyes stay closed for longer than a blink, he’d drop off and not wake up for a solid eight hours. As good as that sounds, sitting behind his baby’s wheel going he’s going thirty down Main Street is probably not the best place to do that. And he has the feeling that Jo and Charlie wouldn’t appreciate it a whole lot. Being the designated drive _sucks_ sometimes.

This is literally all their fault. He wouldn’t _be_ this tired if it wasn’t for them and their insatiable need to party. His bedtime would have been a good two hours ago if it wasn’t for them. But apparently the songs were too good and there was no way they could just _stop_ dancing. Especially since they both had their own hotties dancing up on them. So not only did Dean not get to drink, but he was also alone and standing on the edge of the dance room watching his two best friends get their game on.

Tonight has maybe sucked a little bit. He struck out with every girl he hit on, and he’s still too new to the whole _being bisexual_ thing to have a functioning gaydar. It’s not like he didn’t have fun, though. Charlie and Jo dragged him out onto the floor earlier in the evening and he danced with them. He had his fun, but that ended a good two hours ago when he got tired enough to want to go home. If he’d had alcohol in his system, he probably wouldn’t be as tired as he is right now.

The worst part about all of this is that they’re supposed to be on shift in five hours. Bobby is going to chew Charlie and Jo to pieces for showing up with a hangover. Actually, Charlie’s biological make up kinda burns that shit up quick. So she might be safe from it. Jo, on the other hand, is fully human and she’s going to be a cranky bitch in the morning.

That said, despite being tired, Dean is also hyper aware of everything going on around him. He’s fully aware of how Charlie and Jo are giggling to each other in the back seat and swapping stories about their respective conquests of the night. And he doesn’t miss a damn thing on the road. Every speed limit sign and stop light are right there and he’s super careful about it. Any pedestrian that happens to be out on the street is accounted for.

They’ve just driven past the fire hall when he catches sight of a blue neon light where he doesn’t remember seeing one before. Where the old Bagitos Bagel and Burrito Café used to be, there’s a new place he’s never seen before. _C O F F E E_ is written above the door in fresh white paint that reflects the Impala’s headlamps. In the window to the left of the door, _The Graveyard Shift_ is written out in blue neon. The inside is lit up and Dean can make out tables, shelves, and a counter while he drives by.   

“Hey, that’s new.” He tilts his head to gesture to his right while they pass it. “That’s a pretty sweet name. It’s like they made it just for us.” Dean glances in the rear-view mirror to make sure they’re paying attention to him. “With a name like that, it looks like we’ve got a new night time café for our two AM coffee runs.”

Jo leans forward to cross her arms on the back of his seat. She laughs and flicks him in the back of the head. “You know that firefighters aren’t the only people who work overnight, right?”

A giggle bubbles up from where Charlie is slowly sliding down further and further in her seat. “Let’s not forget that there are _plenty_ of nocturnal folks in this town.”

Dean rolls his eyes and throws a glare at them through the mirror. “Don’t sass me. I’m just saying that it’s basically made for us since it’s right beside the fire hall.” Well, it’s closer to town hall, but who cares. It’s barely a sixty second walk away.

Charlie very pointedly makes eye contact with him in the mirror and then exaggerates as she rolls her eyes. “It’s not _that_ close.”

Bull-fucking-shit. It’s the closest pace to the hall and that means no more disgusting instant shit from the kitchen. They can have their mocha-chinos or whatever the hell fancy drinks they always order and it’ll probably be perfect. He won’t have to sit through anybody complaining about the coffee ever again and it’s going to be _so sweet_.

Apparently it’s not sweet enough to keep the two of them from teasing him all the way home. Or when he has to practically carry Charlie into the house, Jo stumbling along behind him. She pushes her way past to head on up to bed, leaving Dean to make sure the garage door gets closed and that the door gets locked behind them.

“Remind me again why I thought it was a good idea to room with the two of you?” Dean sighs as he helps Charlie up the stairs.

“Because we’re the only people who could tolerate you.” Charlie laughs and reaches up to pat him on the cheek. “You’d be lost without out, freckles.”

He pushes her hand away and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no. It’s more like I’m the only one who could tolerate the two of _you_.”

“Touché.” She shoves herself away from him with another laugh and starts up the stairs on her own, although she has to do it with her hands on the steps ahead of her.

Dean watches her head up and shakes his head. This is the thanks he gets for buying a house and thinking his best buddy would want to live with him. Jo was an afterthought when she joined the fire team a few years after him and Charlie. The extra rent was just too sweet. If he didn’t love their money, he’d kick them out. No, that’s a lie. He loves living with them. Living alone would just be too lonely.

Despite that, he still very purposefully doesn’t bring any attention to _The Graveyard Shift_ when they drive by it before eight AM the next morning. He’s already had his daily dose of teasing and he doesn’t want it now that they’re both a little cranky from lack of sleep and, in Jo’s case, a hangover.

Of course he should have known better than to think that would have worked.

Charlie leans over and elbows him in the arm shortly after they’ve driven past it. “So, are you going to get us coffee tonight from that place built _just for us_?”

He shoots her a glare as they make the turn onto Pitkin Court. “Don’t start with me.”

She flutters her eyelashes at him and tries to look innocent. “Don’t start _what_?”

They pull around into the parking lot behind the fire hall and directly into his parking spot. As soon as the car is in park, Dean points at the door. “Get out of my car.”

“Oh _no_.” Jo places a hand to her forehead as she unbuckles her seat belt. “How cruel of you to make us walk from the _parking lot_.”

“Ha ha, _fuck you_.” Dean throws his door open and gets out of the car with a huff. “Guess who’s not getting any coffee when I go for the run tonight?”

Charlie gets out too and grins at him from over the top of the Impala. “How mean! You’re going to make us walk a whole three hundred feet to the new café? Oh woe is us, whatever will we do?” She leans dramatically into Jo and fake-sobs into her shoulder.

Holy shit it is too early for this shit. How in the hell do they have so much attitude for how little they slept last night? Going to that party was a bad idea all around and he should have known better than to go with them – and he should never have let them go either.

Dean points at them both with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “You will _rue_ this moment!”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns on his heel and stomps into the fire hall to check in. This morning he’s got engine maintenance to do with his dad, and equipment checks to do with everyone. It’s going to be a busy morning for the whole hall, even if no calls come in for them. The only thing he can look forward to today is getting to see his mom and dad, and the nap he’s going to take after supper before he has to get up and stay up for the night shift.

Because _that_ is going to be so much fun.

*

**_Thursday –September 24th, 2015_ **

“It’s two o’clock.” Benny announces as he walks by the couch where Dean is sprawled out and watching TV. “If you want your coffee, go get it now.”

Dean groans and rubs a hand over his face. He’s been zoning out while watching TV, balancing on the verge of falling back to sleep. They have four people in the hall overnight, two of them staying awake to man the place while the other two sleep. Benny is usually awake at night, so he always takes the night shift when he’s working. Dean, on the other hand, drew the short straw when the shifts were laid out for this month. What he wouldn’t give to be in the bunk room with Charlie and Jo and snoring away right now. His nap did fuck all for him earlier.

Benny walks by again, this time with a blood pack in his hand. With a groan, Dean rolls off the couch and gets to his feet. He drags his heels as he makes his way to his locker to get his wallet, being as quiet as he can because those are kept in the bunk room. Charlie and Jo are on the other side of the room, snoring into their pillows. Lucky bastards.

“You want me to grab you a donut or something?” Dean asks as he walks by Benny at the kitchen table. He knows that Vampires don’t necessarily _need_ to eat real food, but they can still kinda enjoy it.

“Nah, I’m good.”

He throws a salute in Benny’s direction as he hops the pole to head down into the garage. It’s faster than the stairs, that’s for sure. The walk to the café is just as quick as Dean expected it to be and he’s pleased to find that there’s still an _OPEN_ sign hanging in the door. The lights are still on inside and everything, so Dean definitely counts that as a win.

The first thing he notices when he walks in is the music. There’s soft instrumental being piped through the whole place. It’s at a perfect volume to not be too loud, and not be too soft. Gives the place a nice – what’s that word? – _ambiance_. Next up on the notice board are all the goddamn plants. The wall to his left is mostly a staircase leading up to some kind of second floor, but the whole wall under the staircase is just completely covered in a lattice with plants hung up all over it. There are even plants on top of the book case in the corner by the lattice.

And that’s a new thing for him too. How many cafés has he been to in his life where they had a _bookcase_? Not only that, but there are honest to goodness _books_ on the shelves. More than that, he sees some board games stacked between them. Is this one of those game cafés that he’s heard about? If it is, it would be the first one in Montpelier. Which is all kinds of interesting. He’ll have to bring Sammy here another day so the two of them can play Mouse Trap together at one of the half dozen tables laid out around the room.

The next thing that catches Dean’s eye, besides the complete lack of people anywhere, is the shelf behind the counter with a crystal ball nestled in between stacks of mugs and baggies of what have got to be coffee beans. Now the question is, does the crystal ball serve a purpose or is it just some decoration? He’s tempted to ask, but it’s kinda rude to ask the workers if they’ve got anything to do with witchcraft. Dean’s not nothing against Witches, but he’s got an insatiable curiosity when it comes to having Creatures around.

Dean makes his way over to the counter and glances around, looking for a worker. There’s not a soul in sight. But there _is_ a door at the back of the café just before a hallway off to the right behind the stairs. The door is partially open and Dean can hear voices in the back. It must be the kitchen and maybe they just didn’t hear the bell over the door? Time to make his presence known. Dean only gets ten minutes of grace period to leave the fire hall for a coffee run during a night shift.

He clears his throat before calling out; “Hello?”

Not two seconds after he says something, there’s a crash on the other side of the door. It’s immediately followed by some very fancy cursing and loud laughter. Dean raises his eyebrows at it, a little surprised. Now who’s going to be the one to come out and serve him? The curser or the laugher? When the door gets pulled open completely, Dean decides that he’d put his money on the curser.

The guy who walks into the front area is, in Dean’s fine opinion, _super_ cute even though his dark hair is covered in flour and he’s scowling. His glasses are crooked and he fixes them before he actually looks at Dean. Like some kind of chick flick movie moment, Dean feels his heart flutter a little bit. He blames it on the fact that he’s tired as hell and this guy is seriously ridiculously cute. The kind of hot that would have had Dean hitting on him at last night’s party regardless of whether or not he could ping him as being open to that kind of thing.

Flour-Guy blinks a couple times at him before turning back to the kitchen. “Balthazar, we have a customer. Please deal with him while I shake off in the alleyway like some kind of _dog_.” He does _not_ sound happy about that.

“You’re a big boy. Do it yourself.” The voice that answers him has a British accent and Dean immediately goes through a mental catalogue he has of people he knows who have accents. The list comes up short of anyone named _Balthazar_. “I’m in the middle of mixing this dough. If I leave it now, all is lost!”

Oh lovely. More people who play up the dramatics. As if Dean didn’t have enough of that with Charlie and Jo today. His heart bleeds in sympathy for Flour-Guy.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Flour-Guys sighs and turns back to Dean. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be with you in just a minute. I want to knock off the worst of this before I end up spreading it around more.” He gestures at his hair as if Dean would have assumed he was talking about something else.

In an effort to play up being casual, Dean leans his hip against the counter and puts on his best smile. “Oh yeah, sure. You –” And that’s when his tongue decides to tie itself into knots. “– uh – you do that. No sweat. I’ll be right here.” He even pats the counter. “When you get back, that is.” Oh God, just _stop talking_. “Thanks – um – dude?” Jesus Christ. Kill him now.

Flour-guy blinks at Dean a few times before turning without a word and walking back into the kitchen. As soon as the door is closed behind him, Dean drops his head back and covers his face with his hands to muffle his groan. Holy _shit_ , what the _fuck_ was that? He can’t even blame that horror on the time of the night and his current state of tiredness because this happens _every single time_. How long is he going to have to be into guys too before he’ll be able to flirt with them as well as he does with girls? Because right now, he _really_ fucking sucks at it.

In Dean’s defense, he wasn’t expecting to be visually assaulted with a hot guy at this time of the night. And that flour just made him look awkwardly adorable. Speaking of the flour, what the heck was up with that? Was it an accident, an unhappy employee, or a prank gone awry? Dean is tempted to ask when Flour-Guy comes back, but he’s pretty sure that’s not going to help get his foot out of his mouth. In fact, it might put it in even deeper.

When he drops his hands, Dean sees something new that he missed when he walked in. He steps away from the counter a few paces so he can get a better look at what he’s seeing. There are bunch of multicolored pieces of paper hanging from the ceiling and, upon closer inspection, Dean realizes that it’s all origami. Is that a dragon? No, no, that’s a crane. It’s definitely a crane. Dean may not know a whole bunch about origami, but that’s a pretty popular fold and he’s seen it a _ton_ in anime.

While waiting for Flour-Guy to come back, Dean counts all the cranes. There’s exactly thirty of them hanging behind the counter. It’s definitely an interesting choice for decoration and Dean kinda likes it. Now the question is, who made them? Was it the cutie with the glasses, Balthazar the bread maker, or another employee? Either way, whoever did it must have a ton of time on their hands. Good thing that they do, because it really does look super cool.

Flour-Guy comes back shortly after Dean starts investigating the display case with mostly-empty trays of baked goods. His hair and his shoulders are a little white in places from the flour, but at least his glasses and his face are clean now. Clean glasses do nothing to stop Dean from being utterly _floored_ by a gorgeous set of baby blues. He didn’t get a good look at them when he was at the back of the café, but now that Flourless-Guy is standing at the counter just a few feet away, Dean can feel his mouth go dry.

Wow, the lust is _real_ right now.

Dean has to bite back the urge to outright whimper when Flourless-Guy actually smiles. It’s clearly a polite for-the-customers type of smile, but it just makes him look even better. The smile isn’t too big, but it’s also not small enough to hide a set of pointed canines. Dean instantly figures him for a Vampire – which would explain him working the nightshift here. No, wait. He’s a little too tan for a Vampire. Benny is pale as fuck despite having one of those amulets made specifically to let Vampires walk around in the sun without burning. Well, bronzers do exist, so it’s possible Flourless-Guy uses that?

“How can I help you?”

His deliberation comes to a quick stop and Dean straightens his shoulders. He smiles brightly and decides on a joke to break the ice. “It’s caffeine fix time for the night shift and I drew the short straw, so here I am.” He spreads his arms to show off his boots, fire-suit pants, suspenders and his t-shirt with the station’s emblem on it to show off that he’s a firefighter. That usually impresses people, plus Dean loves his job and he’s proud to be one.

Flourless-Guy nods and puts his hand on the keyboard of the till. “I’ll be happy to get something for you. What would you like?”

Dean glances at the menu board on the wall above the shelves. Good, it looks like they serve the kind of stuff he wants. “A black drip coffee with two shots of espresso, please.”

Halfway through punching the order in, Flourless-Guy raises an eyebrow and looks up at him. “I thought you said that this was for the _night shift_?”

“Yup, that’s me.” He grins, pleased with his joke. “It’s just me and a Vampire doing the overnight, so he’s got his blood pack and I have –” Just before he finishes what would have been an awkward ‘ _you_ ’, Dean’s phone starts to ring in his pocket. “Hold that thought. If this is a call for me to get back to the station, then I’m going to have to cancel that order.”

He fishes his phone out and swipes to answer the call. “Dean here.”

“I want coffee.”

The anticipation of a call seeps out of Dean quickly and he slumps in place. “What are you doing awake, Charlie?” He turns away from the counter so he doesn’t do anything stupid like be overly friendly with the barista by making expressions at him. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“We want coffee.”

“We? As in, Jo is awake too?”

Charlie yawns loudly. “Yes. Bring us coffee.” And then she hangs up.

Dean frowns at his phone before putting it away. “Looks like the girls are awake. I guess I’ve got a couple other orders to make now too.”

Flourless-Guy just smiles and nods. “What would they like?”

“Something with caffeine.” He sighs and glances at the menu again. “It’s the season for Starbucks’s Pumpkin Spice Latte. Do you have anything like that? Jo loves that stupid shit.”

“We have something similar.”

“Cover it in whipped cream and I’ll take that and a Caramel Candy Corn, whatever the hell that is.” From the board it looks like something Charlie would normally drink, but the name of it kinda throws Dean a bit. Whoever named the drinks here gave them all ridiculous candy based names. It’s making Dean’s sweet tooth ache and he eyes the display case again.

He drums his fingers on the counter as Flourless-Guy finishes up with entering the order. “I never noticed this place before. How long have you guys been here?”

“We opened on Monday.”

Well, that sure explains some things. “It looks pretty nice. Have you been doing well here?”

Flourless-Guy nods and looks up from the cash register. “More so during the day than at night, but we’ve had our fair share of Creature and college students coming in. I suspect we’ll build a bigger client base once we’ve become more established in the neighbourhood.”

He taps the customer display on the front of the register to show the price and then turns away. “I’ll just be a moment getting all the coffee done since –” He turns his head towards the kitchen and calls out the last of his sentence; “– _someone doesn’t want to help._ ”

The Balthazar guy calls back; “Busy, Cassie! _Busy_!”

Cassie? Wow, that brings back memories. Dean totally dated a Cassie back in high school. She was his first girlfriend when he was a freshmen. Now the question here is whether or not Flourless-Guy is _actually_ named Cassie, or if it’s a kind of nickname. He’s willing to bet on the nickname, but it’s hard to tell in this day and age and _especially_ where Creatures are concerned.

With a roll of his eyes, Cassie throws Dean an exasperated look before he shrugs and starts making the coffees. Dean snorts a laugh and looks down to start counting out his change. Hopefully he’s got enough on him, or he’s going to have to resort to paying on card. Either way, the girls are going to owe him no matter what. After the party last night, they should be paying for his drink too. Actually, he just might give them the whole bill for this coffee run for that reason alone.

Thankfully, he’s got enough cash for this. _The Graveyard Shift_ definitely has better prices than Starbucks and Dean foresees himself spending many a night shift here to get his caffeine fix. He has all of his change and bills counted out to the cent by the time Cassie has all the drinks finished.

“Could I get a tray, please?”

“Of course.” Cassie exchanges a tray for the money and Dean puts the drinks into it while his order gets cashed out.

Okay, this is it. If Dean doesn’t ask about it right now, then he’s going to be leaving the store without learning what happened and there is no way his curiosity is going to be able to stand that. If he doesn’t find out what was up with the flour, then he’s going to end up back here in thirty minutes to demand an answer. If he ever wanted to hit on the hot barista again, painting himself as the crazy fireman is totally the way to do it.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta ask.” He plants his hands on the counter and looks up to meet Cassie’s eye. “What the heck was up with the flour?”

Cassie looks up from sorting the money into the cash register. He pauses before frowning and looking back down again. “My brother thinks he’s funny.”

“Mr. British Lazy Dough?” If they’re brothers, then why does Cassie not have an accent too? Holy shit, if he had an accent _and_ looked like he does, Dean wouldn’t stand a freaking chance.

“No, Balthazar is my _employee_.” Cassie shakes his head and points a finger upward. “My brother, Gabriel, is sleeping in our apartment. He runs the café during the day while I sleep.”

Alright then. That’s another point in the Vampire column. Dean doesn’t really know that many Creatures who don’t go out during the day. He really should brush up on his Bestiary knowledge. It would make guessing what kind of Creatures people are a whole lot more fun. That’s half the fun in knowing Creatures, even if he’s totally wrong the majority of the time. Take Ash for instance. Dean literally has no clue what he is. Actually, nobody does. He’s a complete and utter mystery.

No, no. Dean shouldn’t be thinking about Ash right now. He should be subtly hitting on the hot barista to get a feeling for whether or not he’s into guys too. That’s what Charlie said he should do when he encounters an attractive guy and he’s not sure if he’s gay or not. Alright, okay. Joke time. Dean is good at those and they’re all he’s got to break the ice.

“So, you could say that you’re _up all night to get lucky_?”

Oh God, why did he say that? That was literally the _worst_ joke he could have made. He’s kicking himself for it before Cassie even looks at him, eyebrows drawn together in what is clearly complete and utter confusion. Oh great. Of course he had to use a song based joke on someone who’s apparently ignorant to all things pop culture.

“Never mind, sorry. That was – it’s a shitty joke.” He ducks his head and picks up the tray. “It’s a song that I just – Sorry.”

“Oh, I see.” Cassie nods and his expression clears up. “Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

His phone number would be a good place to start, but Dean at least knows enough about flirting to not ask that right off the bat. Not if he ever wants to come here again, that is. Instead, he tilts his head towards the display case. “Maybe you could start stocking pies?”

“Pies?”

Dean nods and actually gestures at it this time. “You have none.”

Cassie leans to the side to glance at the display case. “I guess we don’t. I’ll let my brother know. He’s the baker in the family and I’m sure he’ll consider it if we have customers who are interested in it.”

“Sweet. That’s – yeah – that’s great.” Dean picks up his tray and ducks his head in a kind of goodbye nod. “I’ll – uh – I’ll see you later then.” He gets one step away before he turns back and puts the tray down only to hold his hand out. “I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester; Firefighter extraordinaire. I’ll be in – um – often, I guess. For Coffee. Can’t do a graveyard shift without it. But I guess you already knew that, huh?”

A smile creeps across Cassie’s face. “I do.” He actually accepts the handshake. “I’m Castiel Novak. It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

So it _was_ a nickname. No wonder, too. Castiel is a heck of a mouthful, but Dean likes it. That kinda name definitely fits a guy who wears a buttoned up waist coat for a café shift. Not that Dean’s complaining of course. Castiel definitely has the form for it, because he looks _good_. Flour dust and all.

Oh God, Dean needs to think about something else. He can feel a blush come on and he’s going to start eyeing up the barista like some kind of pervert or something. This is Cas’s place of _work_ for fuck’s sake.

“Y-yeah, you too. Definitely.” Dean yanks his hand back and picks up the coffee again. He backs away and bumps right into a table. “Shit!” It actually scares him a bit and Dean whips around to make sure it wasn’t a person. “Sorry!” Oh God, he must look like such an _idiot_. “I’m just – yeah – Bye!”

Before he can say or do anything else that will make him look like a complete dumbass, Dean gets the hell out of dodge. Well, he just made a truly _stellar_ first impression. This is the first time he’s ever met Cas and he just went and probably made a fool of himself. If he wants to get his flirt on, Dean is going to have to build a better game plan. Maybe then he won’t be so flustered and throw everything out there right away. He can do something like come by often and get to know Cas over a period of time. Throw out some flirting every now and then to test the waters and if Cas shows a positive reception, then Dean can ask him out like a normal human being.

Of course, that plan hinges entirely on whether or not Cas is even into guys. And if he’s single. Oh, and if he’s not some kind of secret douche. Dean knows plenty of people who are all polite smiles when they’re at work, then when they’re off shift they’re some of the biggest assholes you’ve ever met.

God, Dean is making this out to be _way_ more complicated than it actually is. And he has got to put this behind him before he reaches the fire hall. If Charlie and Jo get wind of what just happened, they’re going to lock their jaws and never let go of it until they get every single detail out of him. It’s going to be a nightmare for him if he doesn’t do _something_ to act like he didn’t make a complete and utter fool of himself in front of a _really_ hot guy.

Dean stops outside the door to the common room to take a deep breath and find his inner calm. When he walks into the room, he throws an arm out and singsongs; “The fuuuuun has arriiiiiived!”

Immediately, Charlie pops her head up from the couch. Her eyes are almost closed and her hair is mussed up from sleep. She pulls some earbuds out of her ears as she tilts her head to take a couple sniffs at the air. “I smell coffee.”

Jo is face down on the table, looking like she’s ready to pass out again. Dean sighs and puts her coffee down by her head. “How come the sleeping beauties have woken up?”

The only answer he gets from Charlie is a pathetic grab for her cup. “Give me coffee.”

“She woke up because she has an _addiction_.” Jo groans and lifts her head, purely so she can start drinking her coffee. “And she woke me up when she walked into my bed.”

“And of course you couldn’t _possibly_ have gone to sleep again.” He teases and pats her on the back after passing Charlie her drink. “Now what addiction does Little Miss Riding Hood have this time?”

“ _Game of Thrones_.” She yawns widely and throws a dirty look in Charlie’s direction. “I tried to pry the laptop outta her so she’d get some sleep, but she threatened to set me on fire.”

Dean sighs again takes a seat at the table across from her. “I warned you guys that this would happen when we got Wi-Fi in here.”

“She has it on a flash drive.” Jo kicks back in her chair and muffles a yawn. “There’s no stopping her when it comes to her addictions. I think we need to hold an intervention.”

Charlie makes a hissing noise as she puts her headphones back in. Dean rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee, biting back a moan as pure sweet caffeine bliss hits his tongue. He sits back in his chair too with a contented sigh. Cas makes some _damn_ good coffee. If the looks alone weren’t enough to keep Dean coming back for more, than the coffee most definitely is.

“Okay, sunshine.” Jo leans forward suddenly to rest her elbows on the table. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” He raises an eyebrow at her. What’s got her panties in a twist now?

The smile that spreads quick and wicked across her face actually sends a shiver of fear down Dean’s spine. “Out with it, Dean-o. Who are they?”

Oh God. What did he do to give himself away? Dean is practically positive that he was the perfect image of calm and collected. And he’s going to keep maintaining that or else she’s going to know exactly what’s up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Jo wiggles her eyebrows at him and props her chin up in her hands. “You’ve got the absolute dopiest grin on your face. I’m going to hazard a guess that the barista was hot stuff. So, dish the dirt, Winchester. This coffee isn’t going to keep us awake on its own.”

“Speak for yourself.” He huffs and looks away. His coffee is perfection and her nosiness isn’t going to dull it in the slightest. “You didn’t _have_ to wake up.”

Jo shakes her head and clicks her tongue at him a few times. “Oh, but I did and now you must face my sleep deprived wrath. Tell me about the damn barista girl before you make me pull out the big guns.”

Dean has no idea what Jo’s supposed ‘ _big guns_ ’ are supposed to be, but he’s not all that interested in finding out. Plus, he’s kinda itching to tell his best friends about Cas anyways. They just don’t need to know that he was a complete and utter idiot in front of him. Okay, yeah, that sounds good. He’ll just keep that under wraps and all should be good.

“Is barista considered gender neutral?”

That wicked smile is back into play, this time coupled with a laugh of delight. Jo loves it when she wins. “A guy! Alright, I can get behind that.” She pauses mid giggle. “Or, wait. Was he a Creature? He could’ve been one of those ones that don’t have a gender.”

“You want me to jump to conclusions when I just met the guy?” Dean gives her a disapproving look and clicks his tongue at her. Oh, how the tables of turned. “He didn’t say anything about being whatever, so I dunno.” He shrugs and takes another sip of his nirvana in a couple. “My money is on Vampire, though. He’s got the teeth for it and he said he sleeps during the day.”

Jo rolls her eyes because she knows damn well that’s not a good enough reason. “Yeah, so do _we_ after a graveyard shift, and we’re _Humans_.”

Charlie clears her throat rather loudly at them. “Excuse you. _I_ am a _Phoenix_.”

“Yes, Charlie, we know.” She sighs and makes a shooing gesture.

A quiet cough from one of the other chairs by the TV has Jo shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Yes, Benny, we know you’re the Vampiric exception in our ranks.” She pauses for a moment to make sure there’s no other interruptions before slapping a hand on the table. “But we’re deviating from what’s _really_ important here! Dean, tell us all about the hot barista and how he’s the love of your life!”

Dean fixes her with a flat look. Hot barista or not, there is literally no way for him to tell if Cas is the love of his life or not. While he might love himself a good Disney movie or romantic anime every once in a while, Dean Winchester does not believe in love at first sight. Cas seems kinda cool and he’s interested in getting to know him better, but so far that’s _it_.

“I’m not gossiping about shit that didn’t happen, Jo.”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs and reaches for the deck of cards always left out in the middle of the table. “I’ll drop this and kick your ass at a game of cards if you can answer me _one_ question.”

Here they go. This is probably going to be a doozy of a question and Dean is going to hate it. He can already feel his balls trying to crawl back up into him for safety. “Great. What is it?”

Jo fixes him with that slow, wicked grin again. “What’s the colour of his eyes?”

Shit. She knows damn well that if Dean paid enough attention to pick up on the colour of someone’s eyes, then he _definitely_ has the hots for them. In this case, Dean really wouldn’t mind playing a good ol’ game of tonsil hockey with Cas. If they bumped into each other at the club that he and Charlie go to from time to time, Dean would absolutely be grinding up on that. _Especially_ since he confirmed that he is one hundred percent into guys too.

But, yeah. That’s not a question he’s going to answer. “For your information, I didn’t notice.” He turns up his nose at her and takes a long draw from his coffee.

And of course it’s right _then_ that Charlie has to give her two cents. “Blue.” Apparently she wasn’t watching the show at all and she’s been watching them over the edge of her coffee cup the whole time. Isn’t that just _peachy_?

Dean sticks his tongue out at her. “Fuck off.”

A pleased grin lights up her otherwise like-the-dead look. “Yup, most definitely blue.”

Jo straightens up in surprise and glances back over her shoulder. “How do you know?”

Charlie tips her head in Dean’s direction without moving the coffee from her lips. “He only goes that particular shade of red when the eyes are _blue_.”

Jesus Christ, was Dean just betrayed by his rosy red cheeks? He brings his hands to his face to cover them, and sure enough they’re warm as hell. When the fuck did he start blushing? Who gave his body permission to do that? It sure as hell wasn’t _him_. He feels betrayed on all accounts. Betrayed by his body and by his so called _best friends_.

“I’m the hottest one here. How the hell am _I_ the one who gets picked on the most?” Dean slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms like a petulant child. If they’re going to mock him, then he’s going to milk this pity party for all it’s worth.

“Because I’m a geek _and_ a nerd and I take no shame in being both.” Charlie shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee. “It makes me too easy a target. Jo is too scary to pick on because she collects _knives_. Benny can and will literally suck your blood. Bobby’s the boss, so no one messes with him. Your parents are too awesome to tease, plus they’re _parents_ and it’s the unspoken rule that you never pick on someone who has kids.”

Okay, but that still leaves half the force for them to be assholes to. “What about Nick?” Not to mention Meg, or Ruby, or any of the half dozen other folks they’ve got in the wings.

Charlie shakes her head and fixes Dean with a very serious stare. “We call him Lucifer for a _reason_.”

Is there _anything_ this girl doesn’t know? “Charlie, we joined the crew at the _same time_. How in the hell do you know all of this?”

She flashes him a grin full of pearly whites. “I collect information like it’s going out of style.” Clearly she’s getting a kick out of flaunting her big brain. “You haven’t even asked me about the rest of the squad. Go ahead. Don’t you want to hear why we don’t tease the others?”

“I’m scared to ask.” He shakes his head and hunkers down even more in his seat, trying to make himself look like less of a target. “You scare me.”

“The fear is why you keep me close.” She nods solemnly and pulls her laptop back into her lap. “That’s why you thought it was a good idea to move in with me.”

There is something inherently wrong with that logic. “Excuse you, but _you_ are the one who moved in with _me_!” He has the dates on their rental agreements to prove it. His was signed at _least_ a month before hers, because it took him that long to come to term with the fact that he didn’t like to live alone and it was way nicer to only have to pay _half_ the rent. Only paying a third sounded really nice too, and that’s how they ended up with Jo.

Charlie shakes her head slowly and doesn’t look up from her computer. “That’s what you think.”

“I’m the one with the master bedroom!” Dean refused to give it up to either of the girls when they moved in. It would be way better if he had his own private bathroom instead of having to share it with the girls, but it’s got the biggest closet and that means _storage space_. Besides, if it wasn’t for him, their bathroom would be a complete and utter disaster.

Last Christmas Dean had gone away for a week with the rest of the Winchester clan for some vacation time. When he got back he almost broke down and cried at the disaster zone he returned to – and it wasn’t even contained to the bathroom. The whole house was just one huge _pig sty_. They’re girls! Isn’t it against their genetic makeup or something to be so fucking _messy_?

Jo starts giggling and she and Charlie share a look. It immediately puts Dean on edge. “What was that about? What aren’t you telling me?”

“We _let_ you have the master bedroom and everything because it means that _you_ have to pay a bigger cut of the rent.” She shrugs and tries her best to look innocent while she shuffles the cards. “Why else do you think that neither one of us fought you for the right of having that _massive_ closet?”

“You cheap _bastards_.”

“Don’t sulk, freckles.” Jo taps her foot against his knee in favour of a comforting pat on the arm. “You love your bedroom too much to hate us for the reasons we let you have it.”

This is true, but he still doesn’t like feeling like he’s been played. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest and starts glowering at them. The teasing has been in full swing since last night and he’s getting a little sick of it. How long before their out of this _mood_ where he’s the butt end of every other joke? He knows they mean well, but they get like this sometimes and he doesn’t like feeling like he’s being ganged up on.

After a stretch of silence, Benny clears his throats. “Keep up the jabs, won’t’cha? There’s nothing good on TV and this is about the only entertainment I’m getting tonight.”

Dean throws his hands in the air and tosses a glare in Benny’s direction. When Charlie laughs, Dean turns his glare on her. “Don’t you have a _Game of Thrones_ episode you should be watching?”

Charlie nods and then holds up a little device that looks like the letter ‘y’. “I do.” She wiggles the thing at him and adopts a singsong tone to her voice. “ _And_ I happen to have this _headphone splitter_ that might just conveniently allow someone _else_ to watch it with me.”

And this is why he keeps her around, even when she’s teasing him. Dean downs half his coffee before fetching his headphones from his locker and making his way to the couch to join her. “Move your tiny feathered ass over.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t _literally_ have feathers?” She rolls her eyes and shuffles over slightly.

“Let a man dream.”

One of the biggest disappointments in Dean’s life was when he discovered that a Phoenix wasn’t literally a giant fiery bird like they’re depicted in mythos. They were once upon a time, but they’ve evolved and bred with Humans too much and now they look like every-day people, kinda. Charlie’s red hair is so vibrant that anyone would think it’s fake, but it’s one hundred percent real. So are the bright red flecks of red scattered across her skin in places – mostly around the hinge of her jaw and at her shoulders, elbows, and knees. She’s got a bit around her eyes too. They start to glow when she gets mad and Dean swears he once saw fire start to flicker out from them.

On the plus side, while a Phoenix doesn’t have a feathers, Charlie _does_ have the ability to create and control fire. She’s one hundred percent fireproof too, which makes her _really_ useful to have as a firefighter. Aside from that, Charlie is basically immortal too. If something happens like she gets hit by a car or has a building fall on her, her body bursts into flames and she gets reborn from the ashes. At least _that_ part of the mythos was right. Unfortunately it also means that she has to go through childhood and the teenage years all over again. And that shit isn’t sped up for them at all now that they’ve got a healthy dose of _Human_ in their DNA.

Charlie is a pretty new Phoenix, by their standards. She’s still shiny and new from being born. No rebirths for her. Not yet, at least. Dean hopes that she doesn’t think she’s indestructible, though. He would hate to lose his best friend, even if she won’t really be gone. She’s never told him how the Phoenix thing works with memories. If she had to be reborn from her ashes, would she remember him right away? Or would the memories be lost for good? That’s a question he’s been too scared to ask. It’s a bridge he’ll cross if they ever end up getting to it.

Dean drops onto the couch next to her and wiggles to get some more room. “Shove over and share the Dothraki porn already.”

She laughs and takes the cord of his headphones to add it to the splitter. “I’m _so happy_ that I converted you. It’s always more fun to watch with friends.”

“Oh, like it was that hard to convert me.” He grins at her and pops the earbuds into his ears. It’s no big secret that Dean is a total sucker for this kind of stuff. And it’s definitely not the only thing that Charlie has ‘ _converted_ ’ him into trying (and liking) over the years.

Jo groans loudly and hangs her head over the back of her chair. “But we were going to play a _card_ game, Dean! You can’t just abandon me like this.”

He makes a shooing gesture at her without taking his eyes off the screen, the show already starting. “Benny is better at poker than me _and_ he’s bored. Play with him.”

She turns in her seat to set the puppy eyes on the other comfy chair in the TV area. “Benny?”

The TV flicks off immediately and he stretches as he stands. “Always happy to school a rookie. Deal the cards while I get m’self another drink.”

His crazy co-workers aside, Dean actually really loves his job _and_ his life. He couldn’t ask for things to be better than this, but it would be nice if the romantic side of his life was a little better. And, hey, maybe that new café (and the new barista) will spice up his work and his personal life that little bit more?

_ _

“I am going to _kill_ Gabriel.” Castiel managed to keep his temper in check while he had a customer, but he is absolutely _furious_ with his big brother right now.

“Could you not?” Balthazar drawls as he rolls out stretches of dough to make baguettes. “He signs my paycheck and I’d rather like him to stay alive.”

Huffing, Castiel gives a vicious sweep of the broom to try and collect all the flour on the floor. “For the record, _I_ also sign your paychecks.”

“Seeing as how _he_ is the one who does the payroll while you sleep all day, I think I’d rather keep him, if you don’t mind.” He pauses and turns to throw an amused smirk in Castiel’s face. “And for the record, Cassie, you forgot your name tag again. No wonder the poor fireman had to introduce himself first to get yours.”

Oh the cheek to this one! Balthazar has always had an attitude since the first day they met, and sometimes it rubs Castiel’s nerves the wrong way. Perhaps that’s why he gets along so well with Gabriel. He’s lucky that he gives Castiel the respect owed him for being his boss (and an excellent one at that, he might add). Otherwise, he wouldn’t get off so easy for how absolutely _witty_ he apparently has to be _all the time_.

Castiel growls low in his throat and elects to ignore Balthazar for the time being while he cleans up the results of Gabriel’s little prank. However, he does take a quick break to fetch his name tag from the little filing hutch by the stairs where all employee related items are. He does have to admit that setting a bowl of flour to drop on his head is a rather good way to stop him from sneaking some frozen treats from the walk-in freezer, but it is still an exceptionally rude way of doing it. Not to mention that it is exactly _zero_ fun to have to dry and clean frozen flour off the freezer floor.

All Castiel wanted was just one – _one_ – little ice cream sandwich. Was that too much to ask? Was it really such a big deal to Gabriel that he couldn’t even let his baby brother – his _only_ brother – have just _one_? Regardless, the situation did not call for the need for _booby traps_. Oh, Gabriel is going to get quite the earful in the morning. Not only for all this extra work he’s making Castiel do, and not just for hiding the sandwiches on him so he doesn’t even get to have a frozen delight. Oh no. Gabriel is going to get a _stern_ lecture for making Castiel look ridiculous in front of a _customer_.

It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if he hadn’t found said customer to be rather attractive. And that is where that line of thinking is going to end. Because that thing, right there, is never going to happen. Not ever. Nope. Castiel has had thirteen years of suppressing his physical and emotional attractions to people and one good looking firefighter is not going to undo all that hard work. This is going to be difficult _at all_. Especially since he barely knows a thing about the firefight, aside from his name.

Just to be sure, Castiel brings his hand to the front of his shirt and presses down on the crystal hanging around his neck. He holds on to it and takes deep, meditation-like breaths until the urge to dwell further on attractive firefighters subsides completely. After a few moments, Castiel gets back to cleaning. By the time he’s done, he’s put all thoughts of one _Dean Winchester_ out of his mind. It would be much better for him to focus instead on how he’s going to get Gabriel back for his little _prank_.

“Balthazar, I need your mad genius.”

“Ah, I love it when you acknowledge my greatness.” He laughs and covers each tray of dough with plastic wrap. He slides the trays onto a rolling rack and leaves them in a corner of the kitchen to rise. “Now, what is it you need of me?”

Castiel slams the freezer door, finally finished with the cleaning. “ _Revenge_.”

A manic grin spreads across Balthazar’s face, looking all the more devious because of his Fae characteristics. The pointed ears, other-worldly eyes, and ethereal features only lend power to it. His set of gossamer wings even flutter slightly with his delight.

“Now you’re speaking my language, Cassie.” He rubs his hands together, not just to knock flecks of dough from his fingers. “Did you have anything in mind? Do you want a traditional prank or something a little more _unique_?”

“Traditional for now. If Gabriel turns this into a war, we’ll have to up the ante.” Castiel tucks the broom away behind the spiral staircase in the corner of the kitchen. “Do I have your loyalty?”

Balthazar puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look. “You know me, Cassie. Fae never take sides. If Gabriel asks for my assistance, I’ll help him just as much as I’ll help you.”

This could potentially lead to disaster, but he has no other choice. “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“Great!” With a laugh, Balthazar slaps him on the shoulder and steps away. “Now get me a bucket full of water. I’ll fetch the step stool and we’ll put together something over the door to your apartment.”

Oh, that’s a rather good idea. It’s no flour incident, but it will definitely be an excellent wake-up call for Gabriel when he comes downstairs in the morning. In a way, Castiel is just being a helpful little brother. Gabriel is always a little groggy before he’s had his coffee. It’s one of the benefits of having to be down in the bakery by five o’clock.

Balthazar is up on the stepping stool and fixing the bucket of water into place when he starts having his doubts. He drops his voice into a whisper and twists to look down at Castiel. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’m fairly certain Gabriel has magic.”

“Yes, he does. As evidenced by our licenses in the café.” Castiel shrugs and waves a hand in a _go on_ motion. “But so do I and if he retaliates with magic, I’ll deal with it then.”

“I’m never one to walk out on a prank, Cassie, but I was under the impression that Gabriel had more magic than you.” He still sounds unsure and shifts his weight back and forth on the stool.

Castiel frowns up at him and narrows his eyes slightly. “As true as that might be, I believe I’m fully capable of holding my own against him when it comes to revenge. And if this evolves into a pranking war, then I’m going to have to play dirty because he is better at this than me by _far_.”

“What happens if I refuse to help any further than this for fear of getting caught in the backlash?”

He shrugs and glances at the door into the apartment. “I suppose you’ll get the cold shoulder from me.”

Balthazar nods and looks up at where he’s holding the bucket in place. “I could live with that.” He hums and shifts his weight again. “Give me a moment to weigh my options.”

Oh. Castiel thinks he might see what the cause of his cold feet might be. “I’m not going to tell Gabriel that you had anything to do with this, Balthazar.”

“You won’t?” His wings perk up and flutter slightly. “Well then, by all means, I’m in.” He finishes up what he was doing and steps down from the stool. “If he does decide to get you back for this, then I’ve got a few things in mind that we could do.”

Excellent. Castiel has nothing and Balthazar is going to prove to be quite the resourceful accomplice. He does have one question though; “Will any of your future pranks involve magic?”

Because while it may be true that Castiel has some, he isn’t even remotely as talented at is at his brother is. His magic is mostly used to help everyday tasks. He can make water boil in an instant, or perk up a plant that looks like it’s dying. Castiel can even make small objects float for a short period of time. And that’s more or less the limit of his magic. Gabriel can do _so much more_.

Maybe he really is getting over his head with this.

Balthazar flaps his hand at him before he folds up the stepping stool. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it if we ever need to use any magic.”

Ah, yes. Fae magic. It was practically designed to play pranks on people. Balthazar is definitely going to be a powerful ally during this prank war even though he’s promised that he’s not taking sides. Castiel can only hope that Gabriel won’t see the benefit of asking him to join along. There is also an added bonus to Balthazar using his Fae magic that neither he nor Gabriel might see, but Castiel sees it and he is _very_ pleased with it.

“Gabriel isn’t experience with your brand of magic.” He explains as they descend back into the kitchen. “He’s going to have a harder time countering it.”

Balthazar’s wings rise up behind him, spreading to flutter excitedly. “Well, isn’t that just _wonderful_! Oh, this is getting exciting.” He claps his hands and turns to Castiel. “Will I be getting a bonus for all this extra work I’ll be putting in?”

“We _just_ opened a few days ago. Do you really think that our finances has a margin for bonuses yet?” The have a skeleton crew for staff and Castiel and Gabriel aren’t even taken their own wages from the income yet. They’ve got some savings left over from before they decided to open a café together, so they can afford to not pay themselves for a little bit. Everything they make in these first few weeks needs to go towards paying their employees first, then paying off their bills and making sure the mortgage gets paid. Only _after_ that will the two of them take their dues. Even then, the money is just going to go straight back into the business. Or, at least, into savings.

With a shrug, Balthazar brushes past on his way to check the dough. “Couldn’t hurt to ask.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and head back into the café portion of the building. He should be watching the counter anyways, in case anyone comes in. And now that he’s dealt with the flour debacle, he can sit back with a nice book or a stack of origami paper and relax for the rest of his shift. All of his cleaning usually gets done in the first few hours of his shift, so there really is nothing left but tend to the customers for the rest of the night.

*

The clock on the cash register reads ten minutes before five o’clock when Castiel hears a splash and a very womanly like screech. It’s followed with Balthazar uproariously loud laughter and a string of creative curses all centered on Castiel’s name. What a wonderfully gleeful feeling it is to live up to his requirements as a younger sibling. With a pleased sigh, Castiel turns to the next page of his book and calmly waits for Gabriel to make his appearance.

He maintains his calm and cool demeanor when Gabriel walks through the door ten minutes later. His clothing is dry, but his hair is still damp and sticking to his head in places. “I see you went after my pudding pops last night. Just like I _knew_ you would.”

Pudding pops? Well, that’s disappointing. It’s a good thing he didn’t find them then. “I thought they were ice cream sandwiches.”

“I finished those off yesterday afternoon.” Gabriel huffs and heads to the cappuccino machine. “You need to leave my sweets alone, Cassie. Go buy your own.”

Castiel hums and glances up from his book to flash a smile at him. “But I like the thrill of stolen goods.”

Gabriel gives him a wounded look. “When did my sweet baby bro grow up to be so _warped_?”

There are a number of things that could have done it, but Castiel prides himself on not turning out as bad as he could have, considering their pasts. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t continue playing with Gabriel like this. “Would you like a play by play explanation?”

“I’m good, thanks.” His nose crinkles and he points a dramatic finger at him. “This isn’t over, Cassie. Mark my words, I will get my revenge for this.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, Gabriel.” Castiel nods and looks back down at his book. “But keep in mind the age old saying, dear brother mine; an eye for an eye.”

Gabriel points two fingers at his eyes and turns this quickly on Castiel. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“How is that any different from usual?”

With a huff, Gabriel turns on his heel, takes his cappuccino, and stomps off to the kitchen. Castiel waits a whole five minutes before he marks his page and closes the book. At a much more sedate and far too smug pace, he heads to the kitchen. Unlike Gabriel, Castiel stays in the doorway and leans against the frame, watching as his brother takes out the premade pastry dough from the day before.

“Are you not even going to ask how my shift went?” There’s one very important bit of news that he can’t wait to share with his brother.

There is no small measure of suspicion in Gabriel’s eyes as he regards Castiel from across his work top. “What should I be asking about, exactly?”

It’s impossible to contain his grin and Castiel fixes him with a bright, happy smile. “How about, for starters, I tell you about how I’ve won our bet.”

Gabriel very nearly drops the bowl in his hands, shock clear on his face. “You _what_?”

Ah yes, the bet. One of many, to be exact, but there is one penultimate wager made and Castiel barely managed to maintain his glee when the firefighter won it for him. “I said; _I win_. Someone made a joke about the restaurant name on a _Thursday_.”

“I call bullshit.” He shakes his head and crosses his arms, being about as stubborn as he can be. “I refuse to believe that it happened on the _one_ day of the week that you actually picked. You didn’t even want any other day! I bet it’s because you set the customer up for it, didn’t you? Where’d you meet them to start your dastardly plans, Cassie? _Where_?”

“I can assure you that I did no such thing.” Castiel puts a hand to his chest and raises his eyebrows to portray the perfection of innocence. “I’m wounded that you would even suggest that I would do such a thing.” He truly is, actually. Castiel is plenty conniving in his own way, but he would never think to _cheat_ to win any of their bets – no matter how sweet the winnings would be.

A loud laugh interrupts their argument and Balthazar turns from bagging the bread. “I’ll swear on my mother’s wings, Cassie honestly didn’t. The hot firefighter was as awkward as a Centaur on roller-skates. He stumbled into that joke as hard as he fell for Cassie’s big baby blues.”

“He wasn’t _that_ bad.” Castiel frowns at him for mocking one of their customers. “And he most certainly did no _falling_.” Please, Balthazar, do _not_ destroy the hard work he did earlier to put the attractive fireman out of his mind.

Balthazar shakes his head and smiles. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but he most definitely was and he most definitely did. He called you _dude_. Unironically!”

At that, Gabriel turns a curious look to Castiel, his eyebrows raised. No words are necessary to get across that he is now _very_ interested in learning all about Castiel’s interaction with the so named _hot firefighter_. Granted, Dean was very attractive, but that’s beside the point. Nothing happened, nothing ever will happen, and there is absolutely nothing else for him to talk about on that subject matter.

Instead, Castiel shrugs and turns away. “The point of the matter is that I win the bet and I’ll be taking my prize when you least expect it.”

“Rest assured, Cassie, I’ll know if you’re lying to me and you’ve got Balthazar in on it.” Gabriel slaps his hands down on the worktop and leans over it. “I’m going to check the cameras and I’ll get the _real_ truth about what happened last night.”

“You do whatever makes it easiest for you to sleep at night, big brother.” Castiel waves over his shoulder as he heads back to the front. He even whistles a jaunty tune, pleased to have won.

Now he gets to do one thing to their home that Gabriel absolutely can’t veto. If Castiel has lost the bet, he’s positive that Gabriel would have done something like get a fully functioning gumball machine for their apartment. Or maybe he would have bought himself an arcade game. No, no. He would have purchased a video game console. Yes, that’s more like. No matter what, it would have been something loud or in the way and Castiel would have thought it completely unnecessary.

Happily, that isn’t the case and it will never happen. Castiel can take comfort in spending the last few hours of his shift thinking about what he could get. He’s got a few things that he would like. Gabriel is already complaining about the number of plants that Castiel has filled the café, the patio, their apartment, _and_ his rooftop garden with. There are still some blank spots in the arrangement that could use a few more plants.

Oh, but what about an apiary? A nice little beehive for the corner of his roof? The bees would pollinate his flowers and they would be _so cute_. Just a whole hive of little buzzing bumble bees. Ah, Castiel gets happy shivers just thinking about it. He would _love_ to learn how to become a beekeeper. It would be so much fun!

Thankfully, there’s no deadline for their bet. No matter how long he takes to make up his mind, Castiel can and will get whatever he wants. To be honest, he’s rather looking forward to holding this over Gabriel’s head for the unforeseen future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
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**_Monday – September 28_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 2015_ **

Who knew that the unforeseen future would only be a handful of days? Castiel had expected to lord his winnings over Gabriel for _at least_ a couple more months. It’s doubtful that even Gabriel would have expected that he would find something so quickly, or that he would find it in a dark alleyway at the corner of Elm and School Street.

*

One of the first things Castiel is informed of when he wakes up in the early evening hours is that the day has been _extremely_ cloudy – even raining on and off at some points. So cloudy, in fact, that even though the sun hadn’t set, he was still able to go for a walk much earlier than usual. Castiel’s normal walk would be to leave an hour before his shift starts at eleven o’clock and take twenty to thirty minutes to walk around downtown. As soon as he had learned that it was cloudy, he put on his shoes, threw on his coat and headed out a good hour or so earlier than he usually would.

The town is so different at this time of night and Castiel can never find the words for how much he enjoys having these early walks – which is why he can hardly wait for winter to come. There are just so many more _people_ walking around. Children laughing and swinging from their parents hands, or streaking by on their bicycles as they head home for the night. Even most of the shops and restaurants are still open and he takes full advantage of that by stopping in to explore them before they close. It’s a little unfair that the sun keeps him from being able to explore some of the shops in the area. But not everyone can afford to stay open overnight for the decided small portion of the population that can’t be out during the day.

By the time Castiel reaches _The Three Penny Taproom_ at the corner of Hazen Place and Main Street, not even a whole five minutes up the road from his home, he can already tell that tomorrow morning he’s going to need _the sleep_. He’s far too tired right now for someone who just woke up an hour ago, and he can feel himself getting weaker. Food will help offset that feeling for the night, but if he puts off _the sleep_ for another day, he’ll have trouble getting up and moving around tomorrow night no matter how much he eats.

With that in mind, he ducks into the restaurant to get himself a container of fish and chips to go. He _could_ just sit in the restaurant and eat there, but he’d much rather get the fresh air that he craves all that time. It’s in his blood to love the outdoors. He simply can’t deny that being stuck surrounded by four walls is an itch under his skin. It’s why he converted the top most roof of their building into a garden. There’s nothing better than being surrounded by open air and plants.

Once he has his container of food, Castiel hits Main Street again and follows it up to School Street. He turns left there and follows it across the bridge, pausing on the bridge itself so he can look out at the water. There’s a whole flock of a dozen or more geese sitting on the banks of the river. Some of them are floating back and forth in the water by the rest of their friends. Castiel watches them until he’s halfway done with his fries before he continues on his walk.

At Elm Street, he takes another left. Just as he’s passing the small alleyway between two buildings, he hears a quiet sound that makes him hesitate. Castiel’s first thought is that it’s someone on the fire escape and he glances over just to be sure. To his surprise, there doesn’t appear to be a soul in the alley way. The street lights don’t really pierce the darkness between the buildings, but Castiel has excellent eyes that see better in than dark than most people – Creature or Human. Even his eyes don’t spot anyone standing on the stairs or under them, or even in the brush behind the buildings.

Just as he’s ready to continue walking, Castiel hears the sound again, and this time it is _very_ distinct. To him, it sounds like a _meow_. He chews thoughtfully on a fry and approaches the alley, this time looking at the ground instead of the average height of a person. If Gabriel was here, Castiel would be getting subjected to a hell of a lecture about safety. Even if the noise _sounds_ like a cat, it could be any manner of Creature trying to lure him in for a grim demise. Of course, that’s extremely doubtful. Montpelier is one of the safest towns they had been considering when trying to find somewhere to choose as home. Gabriel wouldn’t have settled for anything less.

Castiel feels vindicated when the meow happens again and this time it’s accompanied by a dirty ball of fur that waddles out from behind the trash cans. The poor thing looks to be mostly made of fur and almost all of it is matted and clumped together by mud and God knows what else. Two dark triangles poke out the top of the mess of fur. The cat’s face is dark too and Castiel can’t tell if it’s dirt or the colour of the fur, but there’s no mistaking the big blue eyes shining up at him.

The cat walks up within a few feet of him and sits down. It meows again and sits back on its hind legs, both front legs coming up to paw at the air – at _him_. Castiel’s chest goes tight and he finds himself crouching before he realizes what he’s doing. He balances his container of food on his knees and pulls out one of the strips of fried fish. This might not be the healthiest thing to feed a cat, but it’s better than nothing and he can’t just leave this poor thing here without giving it _something._

He blows on the fish softly while he pulls it apart and make sure there’s no breading on any of the white strips. As he works on the fish, the cat continues meowing loudly at him. It’s stopped pawing at the air and has started packing back and forth in front of him. The first piece of fish Castiel throws on the ground at the cat’s feet and it falls in it with a happy meow. It even starts to purr while it’s eating the fish, and as soon as it’s done it looks up at him expectantly.

The next piece of fish gets thrown a little closer. Castiel smiles and pops a fry in his mouth as the cat shuffles forward and eats it too. Every piece of fish that follows is just that little bit closer until he can finally just hold out the little sliver of fish. The cat doesn’t hesitate to eat it straight from his fingers. It even licks them clean afterwards, focusing particularly on the salt left over from the fries.

Castiel is a little taken aback by the roughness of its tongue. He’s never had a cat lick him before. They never had any pets when he was a child. There were too many things to worry about given the affliction that he and his father suffer with. Well, in the case of his father – _suffered_ with. And then when it was just him and Gabriel, they were either too scared or busy with just trying to survive on their own to be able to have any pets. There was a time back when they lived in Miami, before their road trip across the country and before they settled in Montpelier, when Gabriel owned a couple fish. Those poor things only lasted a few months, but they were _Gabriel’s_ fish.

Oh, dear. He really shouldn’t be thinking about having pets (or the lack thereof) when confronted with this situation. There’s really only one track his train of thought can follow when he does that and Castiel already knows that’s going to lead to an impossible situation. There’s no way he can just _take_ this cat home. It must belong to someone, right? Look how friendly and docile its being! No feral cat would end up eating an entire fish stick out of someone’s fingers, would it?

He honestly doesn’t know. What he does know is that his heart is dangerously close to melting when the cat eats the last of the fish, cleans his fingers again, and then rubs up against them. It does that once before flopping onto its side with the same kind of subdued groan that Gabriel makes when he’s stretching. Then the purring gets _really_ loud again, and that makes up his mind about the history of the cat. This sweet creature is just _too_ damn friendly to be wild.

Even though Castiel hardly knows anything about domestic versus feral animals, he knows that he probably shouldn’t be having such an easy time of petting this cat. The mats clumps of mud, and what could very well be _burrs_ in the fur don’t make it a very pleasant process, but the cat doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it pushes its head into Castiel’s fingers, seeking a decent scratch around the ears. It seems so desperate for some affection that he can’t bring himself to stop, and so he finishes the rest of his fries with his free hand while watching the cat.

Once his food is completely finished, Castiel stands up. The cat does too and it follows him into the alley where he deposits the container into one of the trash cans there. As soon as he’s standing still, the cat starts rubbing up against his ankles and twisting around his feet. Its purr is so loud that Castiel can feel it vibrating through the cuffs of his jeans. The only thing he can do now is stand there and stare down at the cat, watching it grow all the more attached to him.

Gabriel has joked for ages that he has animal magnetism and Castiel has none. Considering their own private personal lives, that would seem to be the case. However, it could be that Castiel’s animal magnetism actually lies with _animals_ – as opposed to the overtly sexual implications to Gabriel’s magnetism. This is a kind of attraction that he can get behind. Any other kind is one that he attempts to avoid at all cost for the sake and safety of everyone involved.

After a few more minutes of watching the cat acquaint itself with his shoes, Castiel gives in. He _does_ have that one ‘request’ that can never be vetoed. All he has to do is take the cat home and finds its owners over the next few days. Someone has to be missing this sweet little thing. In fact, he might even find this sweetheart on a poster around town tomorrow – though there should already be some up, judging by the state of the cat’s fur. There’s no way _that_ could happen all in one day – right?

With a sigh, he removes his coat and crouches to drape it over the cat. It’s all a precaution, just in case it doesn’t like to be picked up. Surprisingly enough, the cat hardly even reacts. In fact, it even seems to _like_ being turned over in his arms and swaddled like a baby against his chest. It tucks up with a happy purr and looks as content as can be, for what little of it can be seen poking out through the top of the coat. That just cements Castiel’s decision even more. This is absolutely happening and he better get moving before something makes him change his mind.

As per his usual route, Castiel follows Elm Street until it ends at State Street but instead of turning right and away from Main Street, he takes a left to head back home early. The cat doesn’t make a peep the entire walk – aside from its endless purring. It is more than happy to let Castiel do all the work to get them both back to the café.

The cuteness of the cat isn’t much of a distraction, unfortunately. Castiel still spends the short remainder of his walk rehearsing in his head exactly what he’s going to say to Gabriel about his little discovery. It’s not like he plans to _keep_ it – yet. That’s only a contingency plan in case no one ever comes to claim the sweet little thing. And there is no way that Castiel is going to turn it over to a shelter where it might be _put to sleep_ – and not in the good way. No, absolutely not. Even if he didn’t have the win from the bet, he would keep the cat until he found it a good home himself.

In all honesty, Castiel is just hoping that Gabriel will be asleep when he gets back. Since it’s after nine o’clock, he should at least already be in bed. His shift starts at five in the morning. Ever since they opened he’s been going to bed around this time, if not earlier. It’s entirely possible that Castiel will have the chance to slip into the apartment unnoticed and hide the cat in his room. Then he can spend the rest of the night crafting how he’s going to explain its presence to his brother.

While Castiel would _like_ to keep the cat, and this desire only grows the longer he holds it in his arms, he knows it’s unlikely. The winnings of their bet gives him a free pass to purchase anything to their apartment, but would he want to use it to let a cat _temporarily_ stay with them? He has no way of confirming whether or not someone might come to claim it. If they don’t, the cat can be his. If they do, well, then he’s out of a cat and with no free pass for the future. Of course he wouldn’t consider it a _waste_ , per se, but there are so many other things that he would like if he’s not able to keep the cat. If he _can_ have it, then he’s more than happy to use his free pass on it.

Castiel is still mulling the situation over in his head when he walks into the café. Anna is at the counter setting out plates of sandwiches and bowls of soup on a few trays for some waiting customers. When _The Graveyard Shift_ sign goes on at night – just before Castiel’s shift, actually – they stop serving the majority of the food items. Soup is the only hot meal they keep overnight. If a sandwich is requested, all the fixings are in the kitchen and Castiel is more than capable of putting together something simple.

All in all, _The Graveyard Shift_ focuses mainly on selling coffee and the baking left from the day. There are always a few various loaves of bread left, along with at least a quarter of the treats in the display case. Usually by morning Castiel has managed to sell the majority of it. They already have a nice client base of night time visitors that come in and clean them out. He had thought that maybe, in a town this small, they wouldn’t have too many Creatures in the area. Castiel was right, of course, but he’s discovered that there are plenty of university students who need a caffeine and sugar fix.

The moment Anna spots him after the customers take their trays to a table, her wings start to flutter excitedly. After a moment, he realizes it’s not because of _him_ but because of the cat watching with wide eyes from over the edge of his coat. The purring has stopped now and its ears are perked and twitching, catching all the sounds in the café.

“Why do you –” Anna starts, but Castiel waves her off and heads into the kitchen. He’ll explain _after_ he gets the cat hidden away in his bedroom.

She huffs loudly but doesn’t follow after him. Castiel counts that as a win and takes the spiral stairs up to the landing at the apartment door. The cat meows unhappily as it gets jostled slightly while he tries to open the door. While he might know a handful of helpful spells, none of those include something to open doors for him when his hands are full. Actually, that sounds particularly useful. He should look into learning such a spell, if one exists.

To his surprise, and his great disappointment, the lights in the apartment are on. Which means that Gabriel is very much awake – as evidenced by how he calls out to him. “Cassie, is that you?”

With a sigh, he kicks the door closed behind him. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Oh, good.” There’s a shuffling sound down the hall in the living room. “I take it that you had a safe walk? Nothing tried to take a swipe at you?”

“Of course I did.” Castiel rolls his eyes and tries to make it to his bedroom door down said hall, hoping that Gabriel won’t be coming down it in time to see what he has in his arms. “My walk was exactly the same as normal.”

He has the door open and he’s half hidden by it when Gabriel comes around the corner. “Really? Then why are you back so early? What happened?” Gabriel stops and crosses his arms to stare Castiel down. “You know I can’t sleep when you’re out there.”

Castiel sighs again and leans back to look at him from around the edge of the door, still effectively hiding the cat. “I’m twenty-six years old, Gabriel. I think I can take a walk on my own without incident.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you came back earlier.” He narrows his eyes and takes a few steps forward. “Did you remember to take one of those charm bags I made up for you?”

“Of course I did.” It’s not like he’s _new_ at being safe or anything. Castiel is very familiar with the various things that Gabriel has prepared to keep him safe. Any other brother might find it a bit overbearing, but Castiel doesn’t. He fully appreciates everything Gabriel does to make sure he stays alive.

Immediately Gabriel relaxes and he breaks into a wide smile. “Then I have no complaints.”

He might not, but Castiel does. Just a little one though. “You’re being overprotective again.” Which, in most cases, isn’t exactly a bad thing. But there are often times where Castiel feels a little smothered by it. This is one such case. It’s a simple walk and he’s fairly sure that he can take care of himself during it. Especially when their crystal balls or necklaces haven’t done given any manner of warning that dangerous magic is nearby.

Gabriel scoffs and waves his hand between them. “I am _not_ being over protective. It’s called being sensible. If you walk out there without anything, you might be –” He stops at the flat look Castiel gives him. “Okay, okay. I know you’ve heard that lecture before. Change of subject then. Are you going to be having _the sleep_ tomorrow?”

Ah, yes. That _is_ a thing they should talk about. “Yes, I’ll be ready before the sunrise.”

“Okay, meet me here and I’ll –”

That is exactly when the cat decides it done with not being the center of Castiel’s attention. It meows loudly and starts to struggle in the coat. Castiel winces and looks at it, trying to keep it still in the coat at least until he’s in his bedroom with the door closed.

“Cassie.” Gabriel says slowly, eyes narrowing. “Cassie, what the hell is that?”

Well, that cat is out of the bag – so to speak. With a defeated sigh, Castiel steps back into the hall and adjust his arms so he can hold the cat with one and pet it with his other hand. “This is a cat.”

“I can see that, Cassie.” Gabriel advances slowly, his frown deepening. “ _Why_ do you have a cat?”

He shrugs and tickles the cat under the chin, which seems to be very effective in making it stop squirm and start purring again. “I found it.”

“No, _really_?” The sarcasm is practically _dripping_ off his words. “I assumed you _stole_ it.”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to frown and he narrows his eyes at Gabriel in return. “Don’t be snarky with me.”

Gabriel ignores him entirely to point at the cat. “Cassie, I’m putting my foot down.” He accentuates his statement by actually stomping his foot. “We are _not_ keeping _that_ thing.”

While Castiel had entertained the idea of keeping the cat, he had the more likely thought that it would be picked up by its original owners. Now that Gabriel is outright opposing the idea of keeping the cat, he wants to keep it even more than before. He doesn’t even need words to get this across to him. All Castiel has to do is raise his eyebrows and stare Gabriel down.

It only takes a moment for the other foot to drop and suddenly Gabriel goes white. “You’re seriously going to waste your one wish on this?”

Ah- _hah_. That’s where his brother is completely wrong. “It wasn’t a _wish_ , but I absolutely will use it for this if I need to.” Castiel smiles brightly and tilts his head towards Gabriel. “Tomorrow, when you finish your shift, you’re going to take the cat to the vet on State Street. I want it checked over for any health issues. You should also see if you can get it groomed too.”

Gabriel’s shoulders slump and he holds up his hands in defeat in the spirit of the free pass. “Fine, okay. I just want to point out one flaw in your plan. They’re a _vet_ , Cassie. The most they might do is cut the mats out of its fur.”

Castiel tries very hard not to look _too_ victorious. “Well, then I guess you’ll be taking it to a groomer later this week as well.” Granted, that’s only if no one has picked up the cat by then.

With a groan, Gabriel brushes past Castiel to get to his own bedroom door just opposite from his bedroom. “You’re doing that annoying thing again. And I don’t think there’s even a groomer in Montpelier, is there?”

“Use the internet and find out.” He shrugs and steps into his own bedroom to give Gabriel the room to open his door. “And I’m not being _annoying_. You’re just upset that I won our bet and you didn’t.”

“No, no, no. That’s not it _at all_.” Gabriel turns on his heel, but his expression and tone lead Castiel to believe otherwise. “And it doesn’t matter anyways because we’re not keeping the cat! Bet or no bet, we can’t have a _cat_.”

There are a number of holes in his argument, but Castiel doesn’t quite feel like pointing them out right now. That’s a conversation for a later date and only if no one ever claims the cat as their own. Of course, he’s not going to use that ace up his sleeve right now. He’ll save that for when Gabriel starts this argument up again _if_ no one steps forward.

Castiel sighs and fixes Gabriel with a glare that should, by all respects, leave no room for complaint. “What we most definitely _are_ going to do is get the cat washed, cleaned up, and vetted to ensure that it isn’t sick. During and after we have done that, we will make up posters advertising that we have found a cat.” He holds the cat up a little more, just in case Gabriel forgot what they’re talking about. “It’s far too tame to be a feral cat. Though it could just be my natural charm for animals.” Since he apparently has that now, or something similar.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue. “Takes one to know one.” At Castiel’s answering growl, he throws his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine, whatever. Put that thing in your room but remember that we are _not_ keeping it.”

“That, dear brother, is where you are wrong.” Castiel turns away and crosses the room to his bed. “If no one answers the posters and we can’t find its original owner, then we are _absolutely_ keeping the cat.” There goes the ace up his sleeve. Apparently he wasn’t going to hold on to it for as long as he was hoping to. Oh well.

Again, Gabriel stomps his foot. This time he crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “I refuse. We are _not_ keeping a cat.”

Castiel puts the bundle of his coat and cat down on the bed and turns with another bright smile. “You seem to forget the nature of my _wish_.”

“You said it wasn’t a wish!” Gabriel steps forward, eyes wide and blood draining from his face slightly. He really doesn’t like it when he loses.

“And _you_ said it was.” Castiel shrugs and returns to the door to grab the handle to start to pull it closed now that the cat is going to be loose in his room. “In either case, if no one picks up this cat then my _free pass_ is going to get _me_ a pet cat and there is _nothing_ you can do about it. Goodnight, Gabriel!”

Before this can be argued further, Castiel pulls the door shut but doesn’t move from his spot. He stands and listens to Gabriel grumble all the way into his own bedroom. It’s a bit of poor form for him to slam the door, but at least he’s not going to pop out to debate this further. If he didn’t want Castiel to have a free pass, then he shouldn’t have offered it as an option for their bets in the first place.

Now that all of _that_ has been taken care of, Castiel can pay much more attention to the cat. He turns around to find that it has extracted itself from his coat and is now padding around his bed to sniff at the pillows and peer over the edges at the floor. Too late does Castiel realize that the cat might very well have fleas or some other parasite that could be getting all over his blankets – and would already be all over his coat.

Well, he’s just going to have to deal with that when and if that turns out to be true. So far, it seems to be just fine. He hasn’t seen the cat scratch itself even once since he met it, so it must be fine, right? Either way. There are some preparations he should be doing right now.

The cat acquaints itself with his bedroom while he finds a cardboard box in his closet that he can use. Most of them still have some things from when they moved in, but it’s just heavier clothing that takes up too much space in his dresser or closet. He empties two of those boxes into a corner of the room to deal with when he’s done. In one box he places two towels; one folded at the bottom and the other bunched around the sides to make a little nest-like bed.

Once that box is finished, Castiel puts it in a corner or the room and fetches the cat. It’s on its way to slinking into his closet when he finds it. The cat meows in surprise as he scoops it up again, this time without the safety of the coat. Given how fine it was with being picked up before, Castiel suspects that it won’t mind if he does it again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t seem to care – especially since he puts it down again right into the box.

Almost instantly, the purring starts again. The cat turns around a couple times while it kneads at the towel, pushing or pulling it away from the walls of the box to make itself comfortable. Even if it doesn’t stay in the box right now, at least it’s something to distract it with. The distracting gives Castiel the time to sneak out of the room and out of the apartment to the kitchen downstairs. The recycling bins should have been put out in the back lane earlier in the evening and from there he fetches one of the old newspapers from last week that they had in the café.

Castiel takes that back to his bedroom, ignoring the curious looks Anna throws him from the door to the front of the café. He sits on the floor of his bedroom in front of the second box, which he puts right next to the first, and spends the next several minutes slowly and meticulously shredding the newspaper. It’s a poor substitute for actual kitty litter, but it will do for now until he can get something proper. Any stores he knows of in the area that might have them closed about an hour ago.

When that box is prepared, Castiel picks up the cat again and puts it in there. “If you have to go to the bathroom, _please_ use this.” He doubts the cat will understand him, but one never knows in this world. “I would rather _not_ have to clean up your messes from my carpet, thank you.”

The cat shuffles around in the box, pawing at the newspaper bits and sniffing at them. Castiel lets it explore that, and whatever else it wants, while he makes another journey out of his bedroom. This time it’s to the kitchen in their apartment. He figures Gabriel won’t mind (though he probably will) if he uses a couple of their dishes to keep the cat watered and fed. While water is easy enough to come by, there isn’t much in their fridge that Castiel would be comfortable feeding to a cat.

After much deliberation, Castiel takes a few slices of sandwich meat and dices them up in a little bowl. It’s not much, but he doubts the cat will be very hungry after it ate that fish stick. If it _is_ hungry, then he can always get it some more meat. They have plenty of that both in their apartment and downstairs in the kitchen. Though Gabriel might not like it if he takes any of the fixings for the sandwiches they serve through the café. It would be best if he stuck to the stuff they have up here.

Castiel doesn’t have more than half an hour before his shift by the time he’s finished with setting out the things for the cat. He did manage to waste a few extra minutes by putting away his winter clothes in other boxes – or just right up on a hanger in his closet because it’s already Autumn and the next season is just around the corner. His memory is a bit fuzzy about how early winter starts in Montpelier, seeing as he’s only had one winter here so far, but he knows that it’s just going to get colder and colder no matter what. This _definitely_ isn’t anything like Florida.

Before he heads downstairs, though a little earlier than he normally would, Castiel makes sure to leave a note on Gabriel’s door. It’ll probably be like salt in the wound, but he still sees it as necessary. If he doesn’t remind Gabriel about the cat in his room and that he needs to take it to the vet during the day, then he’ll probably forget all about it. Unlikely, but possible. Gabriel _can_ be forgetful sometimes, and especially during the morning when he hasn’t had his three cups of coffee with fifteen sugar cubes a piece in them. He’s almost useless before that point most mornings.

With that done, Castiel makes sure his closet is closed before he takes his personal laptop with him downstairs. His origami papers and book are already in a special ‘ _For Castiel’s Hands Only_ ’ box under the till, so he doesn’t need to worry about bringing those down with him. His shift doesn’t technically start for another twenty minutes, but Castiel likes getting all of the changeover things out of the way before he actually takes over.

Usually his first step is to check what they have left over from the day. By the time Anna’s shift is done at eleven o’clock, and before she hands the reigns over to Castiel, she normally has the loaves of bread transferred over onto the discounted shelf. If they weren’t sold during the day when they’re nice and fresh, they spend the night and the next day on there.

When he gets downstairs, Anna is actually in the process of doing just that. He nods at her and heads behind the counter to check on the pastries in the display case. There are still plenty left for the night shift, but once they’re gone that’s it for the night. Employees are allowed exactly _one_ free choice from the display case during their shift and after that they have to pay for it. The coffee, however, is free no matter how many cups they have. If anyone abuses that, Castiel and Gabriel agree that _five_ is a decent number to allow per shift.

Before Castiel can start counting the money in the cash register for the changeover of the shits, Anna intervenes. She actually steps in front of him to keep him from reaching the till. “So, that was a cat. You have a _cat_ now, huh?”

He shakes his head and steps around her to put his laptop down on the counter. “No, I simply found it in an alley and am taking care of it until its rightful owner can be found.”

Anna, ever helpful as she is, pops the drawer on the register to start counting the money herself. “Oh, really? So you’re _positive_ that it’s not a Cat Sidhe?”

The term sounds vaguely familiar, but Castiel can’t put his finger on it. He might have some broader knowledge on the spectrum of Creatures in this world than most people do, but even he doesn’t know _everything_. His knowledge stems mostly from what kind of Creatures tend to pick up _witchcraft_ and are more likely to hurt him than anything else. There are certainly the more popular species of Creatures that everyone knows about – like Vampires, the Fae, Witches, and the like – but there are _plenty_ of obscure ones that don’t exactly stand out in folk lore like these do. And some, like the Fae, are well known but still rather mysterious.

In the case of Anna and Balthazar, they’re both Fae and yet Castiel has been informed that despite their shared trait of wings, they are both entirely different members of their species. For example, there are Fae that are born under certain elements and will have personalities or appearances based on such. And unless a Fae chooses to tell you what that is, one might never know because it is entirely too rude to ask any Creature those kinds of things. It’s akin to asking a Human what race they are, or their gender, or any other such thing that might not be overly obvious from a glance.

Whether it’s Creature or Human, they’re all difficult to deal with and sometimes Castiel wonders why he agreed to go into a business where he would be dealing with customers on the daily. If he’s lucky, the café will become popular enough that they can afford to hire someone else to work his shift and he can spend his days tending to his plants and reading any book that catches his fancy.

At his obvious silence, Anna sighs loudly and looks up from the calculator. “A Cat Sidhe is a _fairy_ creature. C’mon, even you should know that.”

No, he really shouldn’t. There are hundreds of fairy creatures out there that aren’t considered the more humanoid and sentient Creatures that walk and work among Humans every day. And a Cat Sidhe is really so very _out there_. How is he supposed to remember something like that when there are so many regular cats out there too? And one can’t forget Skinwalkers either. Oh! That’s something he hadn’t considered when he picked up the cat. What if it’s one of those? It _is_ rather friendly and was so tame as to even allow Castiel to pick it up.

Oh, lovely. That’s going to sit at the back of his head for the rest of his shift. When Balthazar gets in, he’s going to have to go upstairs and check on his room to make sure that nothing is out of place. If it looks like anything has been moved, he might very well have a Skinwalker on his hands. He won’t know for sure until a vet has looked over the cat. There are definitive tests (all involving silver) to confirm that.

His long silence, mostly spent staring at his laptop in thought, makes Anna snort a laugh. Her wings flutter when she does that. “Don’t worry, Castiel. I’m only teasing.” She even reaches over and gives him a little shove before returning to counting the till down to an even one hundred dollars. “A Sidhe is black with a white patch on its chest. I didn’t see much of the cat that you had, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that colour.”

Castiel shrugs and turns to fetch a stool that he keeps tucked away in the back corner behind the counter. “It’s fairly dirty, so it’s hard to tell, but I’m certain the cat isn’t fully black like you mentioned. It also has long hair, so it might be a breed of Himalayan or Persian?” Those are the only two breeds of cats that he knows of that might have long hair, and that’s pretty much the limit of his knowledge on cats. He only knows of the more popular breeds and anything past that is a mystery to him.

Anna shrugs and puts the extra money in a baggy. “I wouldn’t know, I’m not a cat person.” She flashes him a bright smile when he stares at her, unsure if she’s joking or not. If she doesn’t know, why would she have brought it up in the first place? Is it to mess with him?

They stare each other down for a minute before she shoves the bag of money against his chest and uses her hip to close the cash drawer. “Time’s up, boss!” Anna throws her hands in the air and does a little spin, her wings fanning out slightly. “I’m free to go!”

“It’s moments like this where I can tell that Balthazar is your brother.” He shakes his head and slips the bag of money into his pocket. He’ll deal with putting that away once he’s finished with his change over.

Anna stops her spin to frown at him. “Don’t insult me.”

A second later, she’s smiling again – clearly joking. Balthazar is _technically_ her brother, but there appears to be a few degrees of separation between them. It’s possible that he might be a _step_ -brother instead, though neither of them has been clear about that in all the time that Castiel has known them. It’s a part of the need for their species to be mysterious no matter what and all he can do is roll his eyes at it.

“Yes, yes. Go on, be free.” Castiel makes a shooing motion with one hand while he moves his laptop to a shelf under the counter. Out of sight until he uses it later. “Don’t think I don’t notice that the clock doesn’t say _eleven_ yet.”

“You’re here; the till is counted; the bread is changed over; the tables have been wiped down and the floor swept; and the dishwasher is going with the day’s dishes.” She turns to put her hands on her hips and flare her wings at him defiantly. “Are you still gonna tell me I need to wait _five minutes_?”

He shrugs and types his employee code into the cash register, changing it over to him for the night. “I suppose you could. Have you taken your pastry for your shift?”

“Of course not.” She heads around to the display case and crouches to see what’s left. “I was waiting to satisfy my sweet tooth on the walk home – ah-hah!” With a whoop, she slides the back of the case open and pulls out a macaron the size of her palm. “One left!”

Anna hums happily to herself as she heads into the back to hang up her apron and take off her name tag. Castiel follows her back to make the deposit and get his own name tag, which he forgot again. As one of the bosses, he doesn’t wear the same shirt as the rest of the employees and he doesn’t wear an apron either. Instead, he’s adopted the habit of wearing one of his vests over a different colour shirt than the others. Gabriel wears the same colour too under his baking apron.

On the employee hutch there’s an almost ancient looking time card punch sitting on the desk next to a filing stand. Above it are the time cards in little envelopes with the employee’s name on it. Anna punches her card with her time out and puts it back in the envelope. She unclips her name tag and hangs it off her envelope too. Her apron goes on one of many pegs hanging on the side of the hutch. Next to the time card punch is a little filing standing with files for every employee to put in their requests for time off, or to get a copy of the schedule for the next two weeks.

Even though it’s not necessary, Castiel and Gabriel have files of their own there too. They even have time cards, though they both often forget to do it. Since they don’t really get paid yet, they don’t much bother with it – which is why Castiel keeps forgetting his name tag. With Anna standing there watching him, he makes sure to punch his card and put his name tag on. He also opens the cabinet door of the hutch to access the safe there and deposit the bag of money.

“How are we on coins?” Castiel glances up at Anna, his fingers resting on the buttons of the safe just in case he needs to punch in his employee code and the command codes for the rolls of coins that he might want to withdraw.

“We’re fine.” Anna shrugs and takes a bite out of her macaron. “I cracked open a couple rolls earlier. The pennies are low, but there’s a roll in the drawer waiting for them – and before you ask; _yes_ , I included the roll in my till count.”

Castiel nods and stands up. “I wasn’t going to ask. I know how thorough you are.” Anna came highly recommended by Balthazar (despite their sibling squabbles) and she has been nothing but an exceptional employee since they started training her a few weeks before they opened.

The compliment earns him a bright smile and a flutter of her wings. She even has a bounce in her step as they head to the front together again. Castiel walks her to the door, not out of chivalry but out of the need to do his shift change check. While the signs should have been changed when the sun went down, he still always checks to make sure that _The Graveyard Shift_ is lit up and the blinds over the top half of the window on the other side of the door are down and covering Gabriel’s sign.

“It’s all ducky up here, Cas.” Anna pats him on the shoulder as he checks the signs. “I think you worry too much sometimes. You can trust us employees to take care of things, y’know.”

“I do trust you, very much in fact.” Castiel shoos her out the door and wrinkles his nose at her for the insulation that he’s a _worrier_. Which, okay, he _is_ a worrier but not about the things that she thinks he worries about. “Have a safe walk home and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

She waves over her shoulder as she heads off down the sidewalk. Castiel doesn’t bother watching her go. As a Fae, Anna is one of the safest Creatures to walk around at night without any protection. She can easily slip between this world and the Fae world as if she were walking through a door. If anyone tries to attack her, they’ll very soon find themselves alone – if she doesn’t decide to use her Fae magic to retaliate in some way, shape, or form.

Castiel heads back inside, ready to do the rest of the cleaning that Anna isn’t required to do. It should take up the first hour of his shift if customers don’t interrupt and then he’s free to do whatever he wants for the rest of the night. Ah, the joys of working the graveyard shift at _The Graveyard Shift_. It’s hard not to smile when he thinks about the joke, especially since he’s the one who won the bet about it.

The next customer who comes in has a backpack on her back and a binder tucked under her arm. She looks haggard and finds a table in the corner by the stairs to dump her things before coming to the counter to place her order. Since it’s an inside order, Castiel pours the coffee into a large mug instead of the paper cups used for the ‘to go’ orders. He’s actually pleased that his first customer of the night is staying here, because it means that he gets to test out his new idea.

Over the weekend, Castiel had received a stroke of genius in the form of his origami. While he does love folding the cranes and stringing them up on the ceiling, Castiel has given himself a limit of only doing ten a night. He has a plan for those cranes and if he does as many as he can in a shift, he’ll be done with them far too soon and he would rather let these take up his time at least a little bit. But he still has an origami itch when he’s done with his ten cranes. As such, a new plan came to him during the weekend.

Yesterday, he had spent a decent chunk of time folding a dozen dragons. They’re small and he outfitted them with a thread much like he does his ceiling cranes. Unlike the cranes, however, the dragon’s thread is attached to its stomach in a loop so that it can hook over its head. It took him forever to figure out how he could attach it to the handle of the mugs they use in the café and he’s delighted to see it in action tonight before he pours the customer’s coffee.

The dragon is perched at the top of the handle; overlooking the contents of the mug. The shiny paper reflects nicely in the light and Castiel is very careful as he places it on a tray next to a plated brownie. Surprise fills the customer's face when she looks up from her phone and Castiel has to fight not to smile too widely at it.

He taps the head of the dragon before sliding the tray carefully across to her. “It’s yours to keep if you want it. Otherwise, please leave it on the table with your mug when you’re done and I’ll take care of it after you leave.”

His plan is to reuse it in the case of someone leaving it behind. If there’s no damage to the dragon, he hopes to put it on one of the many shelves they have in the café or, if he’s lucky, he might be able to get it to stay perched on a leaf on any of the plants. Wouldn’t that be nice? Of course, Castiel would never think of reusing it to attach to someone else’s mug, but he also doesn’t want to put it in the recycling if it’s still in good condition.

It’s going to be interesting to see how many of them he’ll get back or not.

*

 **_Tuesday – September 29_** ** _th _ ** **_, 2015_ **

When the customer leaves around half past twelve, the dragon is not on her cup. Castiel counts that as a rousing success and fully plans on folding a box full of dragons by the end of the night. He doesn’t expect the day staff to use them, but it’s a nice little added flare to _The Graveyard Shift_ that might bring more customers in at night if word gets around. One can only hope, right?

Another few customers come in just before one o’clock to order a couple drinks to go. Castiel is almost disappointed that they’re not staying. He wants to keep giving out the dragons. He puts those thoughts out of his head while he takes care of their orders, using it as a nice break from cleaning in and around all the machines behind the counter. By the time he’s done dealing with them, Balthazar has arrived and started to putter around in the kitchen.

Castiel isn’t too keen on continuing to clean, so he takes the offered chance to put it off for a little longer by greeting his employee. He’s barely taken two steps into the kitchen before Balthazar is turning to him with a wide grin. “Cassie! Anna said you found a Sidhe!”

“She also said it’s _not_ a Sidhe.” He rolls his eyes, suddenly regretting this decision. Cleaning seems like a much better option to getting teased by Balthazar. “Not in as many words, but the descriptions of a Sidhe don’t match the cat that I found.”

A pout makes Balthazar’s bottom lip jut out. “Well that’s no fun.”

“It’s plenty of fun.” Castiel smiles and leans against the door frame. “If no one claims the cat and the vet confirms that it’s not a Skinwalker, then I get to have myself a new pet.” And he won’t admit to anyone that he’s _really_ hoping that no one claims the cat.

Balthazar surprises him by holding up a hand for what is, undoubtedly, a _high-five_. Rather than return it, Castiel merely stares at it for a moment, wondering what on Earth he just said could warrant such a gesture. The moment drags on and Balthazar apparently refuses to put his hand down until Castiel holds his up too. As soon as he does, Balthazar leans forward to slap it.

Just as soon as he’s done, he turns around and heads off to get the ingredients he needs for his bread making. “Your brother is more fun than you are, Cassie.”

Alright, that is quite enough with the nickname. He has never enjoyed it and he’s let it slide one too many times. “My name is _Castiel_. The only person who can call me _Cassie_ is Gabriel.”

Balthazar flashes a wicked grin at him. “And he gave me express big brother privileges when he’s not around because _someone_ has to make sure you’re not getting too big for your little brother britches.”

That does sound like something Gabriel would say but Castiel still has his doubts. “I’ll need to see that in writing, please.”

“Talk to Gabriel in the morning.” He shrugs and turns back to his work with a laugh. “I’m confident that he’ll corroborate all claims.”

Of course he would say something like that. Sometimes he understands all too well why Gabriel’s first friend in this town was Balthazar. Castiel rolls his eyes and heads to the front to finish his cleaning. It doesn’t take him too long, really. He’s been at it for a while now and he only really has to run wipe down the back of the machines and clean the walls behind them before putting them back in place. It’s not like anything has really had the chance to get dirty. Castiel has a very thorough cleaning schedule that breaks all the tedious things down throughout the week. If they get cleaned every week, they don’t get dirty and that’s just the way he likes it. Part of his pride as a business owner is having a clean café.

Once the cleaning is done, Castiel pours himself a coffee and sits on the stool behind the counter. It’s more of a _lean_ than a sit, but it’s better than nothing. Now that he’s done that, he can start working on his main project for the night. He’ll have plenty of time to do his origami later. What he _really_ wants to get done right now is a poster for the cat. No one will know that he’s found it if he doesn’t put up notice around the neighbourhood.

That’s why he brought his laptop downstairs, actually. Castiel opens it and launches _Microsoft Word_. There isn’t much that he can put on the poster right now, but he can at least get the template done and out of the way before he even thinks about doing any origami. First things first, he types in a large bold font at the top of the page; _FOUND CAT_. Underneath that, he uses the _shapes_ option to draw a space where a picture can go. He’s only going to take one after they’ve gotten the cat vetted and all those tangles and mats shaved away.

Beneath the picture space, Castiel types a quick place holder for any information about the cat that the vet will be able to give him. He’s hoping that the vet will be able to tell them the cat’s breed, age and – well, weight might not be all that important but who knows what might be considered helpful. The whole poster won’t be necessary at all if the cat has a tattoo in its ear, a microchip under its skin, or a spell of possession on it. He’s not as familiar with magic as Gabriel is, but Castiel figures a spell like that probably exists. Magic has its limitations, but its possibilities are _almost_ endless.

Regardless, Castiel still fills out the rest of the poster with where and when he found the cat along with the condition it was in. As a side note, he adds that he had the cat vetted and groomed free of charge for whoever it belongs to. At the bottom of the page, Castiel puts the contact information for the café. As much as he would rather put his personal cell phone number and email address, he can’t bring himself to do it. Besides, the _Graveyard Shift_ e-mail address forwards to his personal one anyways. If they call, well, he’ll just have to make sure all the employees are aware of what to do.

Once he’s typed up everything, it leaves Castiel very little else to do with the poster. He’s not exactly ready to shut down the laptop just yet, so he wastes a lot of time fiddling with the fonts. Castiel even adds a _border_ to the poster, for a lack of anything else that he could do to it. While he’s cycling through the different options of boarders, the bell over the door jingles. A customer is a wonderful excuse for him to stop working on this when it’s quite obviously done.

He hits save as he looks up, taking a moment to push his glasses back up his nose. While he doesn’t need them in the slightest, it is annoying when they tend to slide down his nose when he looks downwards for too long. As soon as Castiel realizes who it is at the door, he inwardly winces. It may have been a few days since he last saw him, but he has no problem recognizing Dean Winchester, the firefighter. He is really just too attractive for his own good, especially when dressed in casual clothes.

Even though Castiel has no real sexual desire for him, he can fully admit that Dean is attractive. Gabriel says that what he does is called _window shopping_. He doesn’t really get how that’s possible, given that he is refusing to let himself shop in the first place. Even then, Castiel hasn’t really ever been romantically or sexually attracted to anyone. That’s likely because he hasn’t let himself get close enough to anyone to be able to feel that for them. In Miami, he was home schooled to minimize how many people he would meet with. It’s only in the last three years that he’s really been out and about with actual _people_.

Castiel has to smother a smile as Dean stumbles directly into the first table by the door. A dark blush is already staining his cheeks and it is completely _too_ adorable for him. Oh, that’s a first. When was the last time Castiel ever thought that someone was adorable? If Dean continues to be so flustered and awkward around him, he might very well become Castiel’s favourite customer. He was very friendly last time and that’s just the kind of customer that Castiel enjoys serving.

The fun for tonight will be to see if Dean will stumble over his words as badly as he did on Thursday.

_ _

**_Monday – September 28_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 2015_ **

Is that what he thinks it is? Dean pumps the brakes slightly just to get a better look at what’s happening on the sidewalk on Elm Street just south of School Street. “Dude, is that guy feeding a _cat_?”

In all his years living in Montpelier, Dean is ninety nine percent certain that he’s never seen someone stop to feed a stray cat like that before. He’s definitely seen – or at least heard of people leaving out food on their porches or in their backyards for some stray animals in their neighbourhoods, but he’s never seen this. It feels like he’s just passed some kind of rite of life or something.

“What do you care?” Sam doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone, probably texting with all his high school buddies about how their summers went or what it’s like to be in University now. “You’re allergic to cats so it’s not like you can intervene or anything, and it’s not illegal to feed stray animals. Besides, it’s not up a tree and you’re not on shift so you don’t have to worry about it."

Jesus. Sam has gotten so _sassy_ ever since Dean moved out of the house a few years ago. Or that could be that he’s gone through high school and he’s now all grown up and a quasi-adult. Still can’t drink, but he’s done with school until he decides to head to University – whenever that will be. So far he seems to be in the mindset that it’s best for him to take at least one year off to get a job and start saving up for school in the future.

Mom and Dad have some school funds saved up, but it’s not enough to take away from the sting of student loans. Lucky for them that Dean didn’t want to go to University. He went straight from high school to the training and courses to become a firefighter as soon as possible. Those particular classes weren’t nearly as expensive as full on _years_ at a University, so a bunch of Dean’s college fund went into Sam’s after he passed all of his certifications.

And because that money was for _Dean’s_ education and he didn’t need it, Sam should be grateful that he gets it. Which means he shouldn’t be this sassy little ball of little brother sitting in Dean’s front seat. “Hey now, I just took you to dinner, Sammy. Don’t start getting sassy with me.”

Sam glances up from his phone only to stick his tongue out. “I didn’t _ask_ you to take me out tonight.”

Dean puts a hand over his chest to adopt the wounded act, the guy feeding the cat now completely out of his head. “My baby brother got the call today that he’s been hired at his first _actual_ job, and it’s _not_ mowing the neighbour’s lawn!” He reaches over to pat Sam on the knee. “It would be downright insulting for me to not take you to dinner as celebration.”

“Dude, stop it.” Sam slaps his hand away but ducks his head all modestly. He loves the attention, even if his teenage sensibilities are demanding that he pretends like he doesn’t. “I’m eighteen now, Dean. You don’t need to do this for me.”

“I absolutely do.” Dean laughs and gives his shoulder a shove. “Put up the act all you want, but I _know_ you miss me living at home and being around all the time.”

Any sense of amusement falls right off Sam’s face. He leans over and drops his voice into a serious tone. “I have your room and it’s _twice_ as big as mine used to be. If you ever move home, I will – without hesitation – smother you in your sleep.”

It’s all Dean can do to resist laughing. He takes his eyes off the road long enough to throw another wounded look at Sam. “You’d let something like a _bedroom_ come between us?”

“I absolutely would.”

Dean huffs and slouches over the steering wheel. “The sibling rivalry is strong with this one.” He throws another glance at Sam, this time with his eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should just drop your ass here and let you walk the rest of the way home.”

It’s only a twenty minute walk from here and it’s not _that_ dark. Sam should totally be fine. He might be a walking beanpole, but those baggy clothes hide a lot of muscle. If anyone tried to mess with him, he’d either kick their ass from here to Timbuktu, or he’d be able to outrun them by miles. Actually, this isn’t sounding half bad. At the least, he could put the fear of God back in his baby brother.

The moment Dean pulls the car over, Sam looks around and frowns at him. “What are you doing?”

“Making you walk home.” Dean unlocks the doors and flaps his hand. “Go on. Get out.”

Sam crosses his arms over his chest and wiggles down lower in his seat. “Can’t make me.”

Oh, it’s this game now, is it? Two can play at this game. “Yes, I can.”

Dean laces his fingers together and turns his palms outward, loosening up his hands as if he’s preparing himself for the wrestling match of the century. If Sam isn’t afraid already, then he should be seeing as how Dean was top of the wrestling team in every year of high school. If anyone has doubts about it, then Dean has the trophies and medals to prove it.

After rolling his shoulders, Dean turns in his seat ready to fake wrestle Sam out of the car. It’s not like he actually intends to make him walk home the rest of the way, but it’s still fun as hell to see his little brother look scared of him. Too bad his plan backfires _hard_. As soon as Dean turns to him, Sam pulls out the puppy eyes – and of course he has to be _really_ fucking good at it too. His eyes go all big and sad looking, and he even throws a pout in to boot.

Dean can’t do shit in the face of that and he slumps back in his seat with a sigh. “Christ, just put those eyes away. You win, you win.”

Sam doesn’t say a word, but he does straighten up with a triumphant grin. Dean just rolls his eyes and puts the car back into drive to pull back out onto the road. It’d be nice to have a subject change right around now so he doesn’t have to deal with Sam being all puffed up with his success.

“So, Sammy, what are your plans for University?” That’s a sure fire way to take the wind out of his sails.

Sure enough, Sam deflates and leans against the door. “I dunno, Dean. There’s a bunch of stuff I want to do, but I don’t know where to start or what to go after. The longer I take to figure it out while I’m going to classes, the more expensive it’s going to be.” He shrugs and rests his head against the window. “What if I end up not liking anything and it’s all just one big waste of money?”

Yeah, that’s a good reason to want to take time off from schooling. “You know that Mom and Dad aren’t going to push you for anything. You just take your time to figure out what you wanna do. Who knows, maybe your new job will be your calling and you’ll want to enroll in classes that have to do with that.”

“Maybe?” He shrugs again and gives Dean a forlorn look. “You always knew you wanted to be a firefighter, right?”

“Absolutely.” Ever since he was a kid that was all that was in the cards for Dean. He even used to play fireman around the house with his little costume and toy fire truck. It just felt _right_ – and not just because it’s in his blood on his mother’s side of the family.

Every Campbell for the last four generations has been a firefighter at the Montpelier fire hall. Even mom was one, once. She retired from the force when Dean was born, but even she didn’t go far. Bobby hired her right back to work the office for them – mostly because Mom was still able to work and she could have Dean (and eventually Sam) in a play pen next to her desk. The alarms probably weren’t the best for nap time, but they got by. And now Mom’s a volunteer firefighter, just like Dad – though his main job is maintenance on the building and the vehicles.

Hell, if it wasn’t for that fire hall, Dean and Sam might not even exist right now. The station is where their parents met and fell in love – even despite Dad’s bigoted views. He might, kinda, in a way not be so fond of Creatures. And since you need to have implicit trust in the other firefighters on staff, and be able to put aside all differences to rescue anyone and everyone no matter their race or species – well, Dad might have had a little trouble with those kind of tests. Thus why he’s only allowed to be a _volunteer_ firefighter and not one on staff like he wanted to be.

The conversation about University and future plans carries them all the way back to Casa de Winchester. They’ve barely pulled into the driveway before Mom comes out the front door in her slippers and house coat, her night gown swirling around her ankles.

Dean rolls the window down and hangs an arm out it. “Waiting for us, were you?”

“Of course I was.” She just smiles and holds out a paper bag. “I know you’re on shift for tomorrow, so I made you a couple sandwiches to take for lunch and supper.”

“Aww, mom!” Dean groans but still happily accepts the bag because his mom makes the _best_ sandwiches in the world. “You didn’t have to. Now Charlie and Jo are going to tease more than they usually do.” Her sandwiches are worth it, but he’s still her kid so he’s contractually obligated to whine like a baby when she does shit like this.

Mom laughs and leans down to kiss him on the forehead. “I know, baby, but that’s what mothers are for. Oh, I also left you half a pie in the fridge at the station. It’s marked _Bobby’s_ so no one will touch it tonight.” She reaches through the window and taps him on the nose. “Promise me that you’ll save it for dinner and _not_ eat it for breakfast?”

Seriously, best mom _ever_. “I can’t make any promises.” He shakes his head and grins up at her. “But you’ll be there to stop me if you see me going for it.”

“I thought you might say that.” She sighs but winks at him because, as previously mentioned, she’s the best mom in the world.

When Sam comes around the car to head inside, Mom loops an arm over his shoulders and pulls him against her side in a hug that even he won’t avoid. Mom kisses him on the cheek because the top of his head is well out of reach. Sam makes a muffled sound of protest, but he does nothing to push away.

Mom smiles at him before looking to Dean again. “Have a good night, sweetie, and drive save. We’ll see you for dinner on Sunday, right?”

Sam huffs. “Mom, that was _yesterday_.”

“ _Next_ Sunday, Sammy dear. Don’t be a smartass with me.”

He grins and ducks out from under her arm, dancing back out of reach. “Bye, Dean! See you in a couple days!” As in, after Dean’s shift tomorrow and after his day of rest.

Dean raises a hand in a wave. “See ya, Sammy. Text ya later.”

“Go on, sweetie.” Mom shoos him off before hugging herself, a breeze kicking up. “We’ll see you tomorrow and try not to bring the girls in with hangovers. You know how Bobby hates that.”

“Not parties tonight, mom. Promise.” Dean blows her a kiss as he starts backing out of the drive way. He waves as he drives off down the road, going slow enough to make sure that she gets back into the house safely. The neighbourhood is nice and quiet, but that’s his _mom_ and he’s going to be as protective of her as he wants to be.

The drive to his house isn’t a very long one, but Dean spends it practically vibrating in his seat. He’s _really_ excited to go to work tomorrow morning. Mostly because he loves his job and he loves his coworkers (for the most part). And maybe, in some way, part of his excitement might be because he can go to The Graveyard Shift again tomorrow night. He went on his Saturday overnight shift, but the hot barista guy – Cas – wasn’t working. Apparently he only works Monday to Friday, which means he’ll be working tomorrow night and Dean can attempt to flirt again. He just – he _really_ needs to find out if Cas is open to guys or not. Then he can move on and stop building up a crush on the cute barista.

When Dean gets home, he detours to the kitchen to put his sandwiches in the fridge. Charlie is standing in front of a pot of boiling water, utterly engrossed with the book in her hands. Dean sighs and shuffles her out of the way so he can add her instant noodles to the pot and turn the heat down a bit.

“What have I said about cooking and reading?”

She hums and flips a page, not even looking up. So, it looks like Dean is going to have to be the one to make the noodles for her. Either that or they’re going to boil dry and burn to the pot and – God, no. Dean is _not_ going to let that happen _again_. They had to throw out the pot the last time she did that _and_ the place reeked of burnt noodles for days. It was _not_ a fun experience and – Hold up.

Dean ducks and tilts his head to read the cover of the book in Charlie’s hand. “That’s book two. You’re finally done with book one?”

“Yeah.” She nods and flips to the next page. “Left it on your bed.”

Fuck yes. The Elenium Trilogy isn’t even remotely a recently released series, but Charlie raved about the first book, _The Diamond Throne_ , while she was reading it. The main character is a guy named Sparhawk – _Sparhawk_ , for fuck’s sake! If that wasn’t already cool enough, apparently he’s badass and awesome and hilarious. The fantasy setting of the story is right up Dean’s alley too. He’s been waiting for days for her to finish the first book so he could start it. Looks like he’s got a bedtime story for tonight!

Once the noodles are cooked to Charlie’s favourite consistency, Dean pulls them from the stove and mixes in the seasoning. He dumps it all into a bowl and sets out a placemat on the table with the food and a fork. Charlie still stays standing where she was and he sighs, guiding her to sit down. Once the fork is in her hand, she props the book open on the far side of the bowl and starts eating automatically. It’s all Dean can do to roll his eyes and leave quietly, he’s got a book to start reading.

*

 **_Tuesday – September 29_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 2015_ **

There might be a small problem with starting to read a new book in the late evening. The problem lies mostly with Dean and his inability to put down something good once he’s started it. And _The Diamond Throne_ is _definitely_ good. If Charlie doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to be done book one before she’s done book two. He’s already a decent chunk into the book before his bladder reminds him that it does exist and sometimes needs to be emptied.

As much as he hates to do it, Dean bookmarks his page and rolls out of bed to shamble into the bathroom. On his way back, while wiping his hands dry on his t-shirt, he catches sight of the alarm clock and groans. _Shit_. It’s well after one o’clock and that makes Dean a great big idiot for not having gone to bed _hours_ ago. Now the problem is that he doesn’t feel even the least bit tired. The adventures of Sparhawk is still in the forefront of his head and if he turned off the light now, it’s doubtful that he’d be able to stop thinking about the story.

No, what he needs to do now is get the book out of his head and tire himself out. The best way to do that is just for a quick walk around the neighbourhood. Ten minutes out there should be more than enough to knock him out. Dean hates running and he’d even consider a quick jog if it’ll sap whatever reading energy he’s got pumping through his veins right now. Once the idea is in his head, he can’t think of anything else to do. So, why the hell not? It’s not like it’s going to hurt anything. And he needs to get away from the book or he’ll just pick it up again and keep reading.

Dean tucks the book away in the drawer of his bedside table and changes clothes. He swaps his plaid cotton pants for a decent pair of sweats and pulls a hoodie on over his t-shirt. It’s probably around sixty degrees out there right now and even though that’s not exactly _cold_ , he’s not going to take any chances. If he gets sick, that could put him down for a week and he doesn’t want to risk anything stupid like that. A cold while on shift is a pain in the ass – and it might be enough for Bobby to send him home.

After he’s dressed, Dean grabs his phone, his wallet, and some headphones. His keys he grabs at the front door before he heads out for the walk, locking the door behind him. The music he decides to listen to is soft and gentle, something to calm his brain down. Even his stride is laidback. A jog would just get his heartrate up and then there’d be no sleeping after that – at least not for a little while.

He lets his feet do the guiding on the walk. They turn where they want and cross the street when they want. All he tries to do is focus on keeping the book out of his head and listening to the music. It’s his sleep playlist, basically, full of instrumental music from movies. There are some crescendos and shit, like during big battles from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, but those don’t really hype him up too much unless he’s watching the movie.

Maybe he should have been paying attention to where his feet were taking him, because before Dean knows it, he finds himself standing in front of the _The Graveyard Shift_ a good twenty-four hours before he’s supposed to be here. He can even see Cas through the windows on the door, sitting at the counter by the cash register, focused on his laptop. Fuck it. Since he’s already here, he might as well go in and say hello. Maybe get a little snack to reward himself for this nice long walk that did indeed do its job of clearing his head of _The Diamond Throne_.

With a deep breath, Dean pushes open the door and steps inside. His heart does a funny little jig in his chest because Cas is kinda really cute when he’s concentrating on things. There’s a small frown drawing his eyebrows together and his glasses have slid down his nose a ways. His hair is all kinds of fucked up, like he tried styling it but didn’t know what he was doing, or he ran his hands through it a little too much. Either way, it looks good and Dean is going to get into _so_ much trouble for staring as hard as he is.

When Cas looks up, one hand going to the screen of his laptop to close it, Dean’s feet choose right then as the perfect time for him to walk into a chair and bump it into the table it’s sitting at. Dean immediately swears under his breath and looks down to put the chair back in its rightful place. Hopefully Cas didn’t notice how much he was staring at him – or that his vision is so bad that when he’s looking over his glasses at him like that, he won’t be able to see that Dean is blushing like a beacon over here.

Oh God, but there Cas goes, pushing his glasses up his nose. Fuck. Dean swallows his pride and tries really hard to get his blush under control. He pulls one of his headphones out and gives a small wave. “Uh –” Not the time to be tongue tied, Winchester! “Hello again.”

Cas closes his laptop and a small smile spreads across his face. “Welcome back, Dean.” Oh God, he even remembered his name. “What can I get for you today? I’m afraid I haven’t memorized your order yet, but I’m sure I will if you keep coming back.”

No, no, don’t do that. That would make Dean feel special and make him feel like he totally has a chance, and right now he’s not even sure if guys turn Cas’s crank at all. Is he into girls only? Guys only? His specific kind of Creature only? Maybe he’s not into anyone or anything at all, which is entirely possible. Either way, Dean is at loss because he’s never wanted to hit on a guy before and this is still pretty fucking _new_ to him.

He shakes his head and offers an apologetic smile. “Actually, I’m not here for coffee tonight.” Shit, that makes it sound like he’s here for _Cas_. Why did he come in here? He should’ve turned around outside and gone back home. This is a bad idea that’s just going to make him look all the more foolish. Cas is going to think he’s a weird creepy loser and ban him from ever coming back to the café.

“No coffee?” Cas tilts his head and raises one of his eyebrows. He glances him over and Dean shuffles awkwardly in place. “You don’t look like you’re on shift tonight.”

“I’m not.” Dean shrugs and shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I’m technically supposed to be sleeping right now. I gotta work in…” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Shit. I gotta be at work by eight.”

Cas’s eyebrows furrow together in another confused frown. “Then why are you here? I may not be the foremost expert in proper sleep cycles, but I do believe you should be _sleeping_ right now.”

There is no way to explain why he’s here without blatantly outing himself for crushing on the cute barista who just so happens to be the picture of Dean’s perfect guy. And that’s saying something, considering it’s only been in the last year that he’s formed what that perfect guy would be. Sure, he apparently had massive man crushes on Harrison Ford and Dr. Sexy while he was growing that he never realized until _after_ he figured out that he was bisexual, but – yeah, okay. He’s got a thing for dark hair and a rebel-like attitude, which Cas sorta has going for him with the hair and the stubble and the – seriously, another waist coat? What the _hell_! No barista wears a _waistcoat_.

Dean clears his throat and shrugs slightly, glancing away to eye up the display case because that’s way better than staring at Cas. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.”

“So, you came to a café?” Cas stands up and goes around the counter so he’s standing behind the display case. Is he _trying_ to make Dean look at him? Jesus, that’s not fair. “Are you feeling alright? That doesn’t seem like a very sound plan for inducing sleep.”

He shrugs again and glances up, then viciously wishes he hadn’t. Cas has a teasing smile pulling up the corners of his mouth and it makes Dean go weak in the knees. Yup, it’s time to get the hell out of dodge before he says or does something stupid. This is so not the time or the place for him to be right now. Dean needs to be home and in bed and _sleeping_.

“I’ll – um – sorry. I should probably go.” His throat feels like it’s closing up and Dean steps away from the counter. “This was dumb of me, sorry.”

“Not at all.” Cas shakes his head and his smile grows even more, showing off those pearly whites and _really_ pointed canines. Those are most definitely not Human teeth and they give Dean a bit of a chill just looking at them. “If you’re here, then you must want something, right?”

It’s all Dean can do not to laugh because that’s truer than Cas could ever know. The longer they talk, the more his crush is growing. Which means the answer to Cas’s question is that Dean did, indeed, come here for something. Unfortunately, he doubts he could get away with saying something along the lines of ‘ _yeah, you_ ’. That probably wouldn’t turn out so great, and he really would rather keep that smile on Cas’s face for as long as he can.

Too bad that the longer Dean doesn’t answer, the more Cas’s smile slips. Finally, Cas just turns slightly to gesture at the menu behind him. “We do have other drinks besides coffee. Would you like some chocolate milk? Water, perhaps? I do make a very good decaf, if you still want the flavour of coffee without the caffeine.” He pauses and turns back to tap the top of the display case. “Or perhaps you might be inclined for something a little more sugar based?”

In all honesty, Dean really shouldn’t buy anything right now, but he can’t help grinning at the curious little lift of Cas’s eyebrow. “You’re just saying all that because you want my money.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate to nod. “That would be because I run a business.” He taps the display case again. “And I do enjoy peddling my brother’s baking. It’s quite good, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, well in _that_ case.” Dean can’t help a grin of his own and he shuffles closer to get a look at what they have to offer.

Sadly, there doesn’t appear to be any pie yet. That’s a bit disappointing, but Dean didn’t really expect them to start making it just because he asked them to last week. He’ll have to keep on them once he’s on better terms with the owners – in this case, Cas and his brother. And he hasn’t even met that guy yet – what was his name again? Something weirdly religious sounding too. It’s – oh yeah, Gabriel. Since he’s the big baker of the place, he’s probably the one that Dean is going to have to work on to start getting pie stocked.

It’s not that big a deal right now because Dean’s _truly awesome_ mom left him pie at the station, so he’s not going to bother asking about it right now. Instead, he should focus on picking something that he actually recognizes. There are some weird pink sandwiches with something in the middle. These are pretty small and he could probably put a couple of them in the palm of his hand. There are a bunch of tarts covered in fruit, and some rectangular slices of something that might be cake, but he can’t really tell aside from that it’s drizzled with icing.

Nothing looks really familiar to him until he reaches the bottom of the display case where there are thick square slabs of what is undoubtedly chocolate. Dean points at those and looks up at Cas. “Brownies?”

“Yes, they are.” He nods and grabs an envelope-bag that looks like it’s made of wax paper. “Would you like one? I can attest that they are very good, if you don’t mind rich chocolate.”

Luckily, Dean _loves_ rich chocolate. “Sure, why not. Grab me one of those, please.”

Cas ducks down to slide open the door on the back of the case. When he pops up again, the brownie is in the wax baggie. “Do you want this in a proper bag, or is this fine for you?”

“S’fine, thanks.” He holds his hand out for it and does his best not to accidentally brush their fingers together. If that happened, he might just melt through the floor because it’s dumb and sappy and weird.

Cas hands off the brownie and punches a few buttons on the cash register. It’s only a couple dollars and Dean is pretty impressed, given the size of the brownie. It’s like three inches by three inches across and he might not be able to finish it before he gets home. He’s _definitely_ going to have to brush his teeth again before he goes to bed, that’s for sure. Twenty-two years he’s gone without a cavity and he is _not_ breaking that streak now.

Once the bill is settled up, Dean holds up the brownie in a kind of salute. “Thanks for the midnight snack, Cas. Give your compliments to your brother.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet.” Cas adjusts his glasses again and smiles. “And it’s after two o’clock. It’s not exactly a _midnight_ snack, now is it?”

Holy crap, he has got to be joking. “It’s – uh – it’s just a saying.” A really common one too. Maybe Cas is just one of those _really_ literal people? Dean isn’t sure if that’s adorable or not. He’s never really met someone literal like that. Everyone usually more or less understands everything that he says, and sometimes Dean can say some really weird things.

“Oh.” Colour dusts Cas’s cheeks and he looks down to start sorting the change into the drawer. “Well, you’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it.”

Dean has to fight the urge to smile like a doofus because _wow_. If he thought Cas was cute before, he’s not sure what at all to call it when he _blushes_. Like, he’s really fucking cute right now as he keeps his head ducked and pushes his glasses up his nose again. Poor guy needs to get them refitted so they sit better. They shouldn’t be sliding like that – and he only knows that because Grandpa Campbell had to get glasses and he was a real bitch about it for a while.

“Right, well –” Dean steps back, trying to kick himself into motion. “I should head back and try to get some sleep. I guess I’ll be seeing you again in twenty-four hours.”

Cas looks up at him again, eyebrow raised. “Will you be getting coffee then?”

“Absolutely. I lost the draw for this month so I’m staying up for every night shift.” He grins and nods, throwing every bit of confidence he has into his next words. “Try to remember what I like this time, okay? Black drip coffee with two shots of espresso.”

“Duly noted.” Cas taps his temple, like he’s really filing it away in there. “Have a safe walk home, Dean.”

Goddammit. He used his name again. That’s not fucking fair. Dean ducks his head, hoping this doesn’t cause another blush. He waves over his shoulder and manages to make it out of the café without tripping over his feet or bumping into a single table, which is really a feat all on its own.

This was not how he was expecting his night to go, but he can’t say that he regrets it. He’ll be tired as hell in the morning, but he’s got a brownie right now and Cas’s smile fresh in his mind. In less than a day he’ll get to see it again and maybe get to know Cas better. That’s step one and – well – who knows where step two is going to take him? Either way, he’s kinda looking forward to that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥

 

_ _

**_Tuesday - September 29th, 2015_ **

It takes every ounce of Dean’s balance and brain power not to fall flat on his face when he rolls out of bed. God, he’s fucking _exhausted_. When he got back from his walk last night, he brushed his teeth and went straight to sleep. Despite that, and despite how _awesome_ the brownie was when he was eating it, his mouth tastes like week old chocolate and he’s so tired he feels like he’s hungover. It’s a shit combination and he kinda hates it.

He drags his heels while getting ready, skipping his shower because there’s just no time at all. If he has the time, he can shower at the station later during some downtime. For now, it’s just his station uniform - a polo and some dark pants. Dean wears them during the day then jumps into his bunkers when a call comes in. The only time he wears his turnout pants, boots, and his suspenders constantly is at night when he doesn’t run the risk of doing anything that might get them ripped. That’s just to save time.

Oh, but his bed is looking so very comfortable right now. Dean wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep in it again. Good thing he put the book away or he’d be really tempted to bring it with him - or just give up on leaving the house altogether and go back to reading it. But he’s really too tired for that and he’d never miss a day of work. If he’s going to miss work, then he better be fucking _dying_ because nothing is going to keep him from the best job in the world. That and he can’t even imagine how disappointed his parents would be if he skipped for anything less than death.

“Dean, my dear!” The knock at the door makes Dean jump in surprise and he realizes that he’s just been standing there staring at the bed. Shit, how long do they have before shift start?

Charlie’s next knock is a hard bang. “Oi, Dean! Get the lead out and _let’s go_.”

“Oh my _God_ , just go in and hose him down!” Jo’s shout is far more muffled through her bedroom door and Dean’s. Of course she's getting frustrated with them. Unlike some people, _she_ doesn't have to work today. “He’s obviously not up yet!”

Dean rubs his hands over his face and opens his door. "Wrong on all accounts." Time to get the ball rolling on this day. The sooner he starts, the sooner it's done. “Let’s go.”

“What about breakfast?” Charlie’s bottom lip sticks out in a pout as she follows him down the stairs. “You promised me a full spread this morning!”

That’s a fucking lie and she should be ashamed for even trying to use his sleep deprived brain fuzz to swindle a meal out of him. Granted, that’s not really anything new. Charlie tries to get a home cooked meal out of him practically every day. It probably has to do with how she’s a connoisseur of microwave meals while Jo gets her fill of cooking whenever she’s at her mom's restaurant; the Roadhouse. And that means the only one who actually uses their kitchen like it was intended to be is _Dean_. Luckily for them, he doesn’t mind in the slightest - mostly because some of his fondest memories from growing up are helping his mama cook.

Dean ignores just flat out ignores her whining. The only reason he goes to the kitchen is to grab the bag of sandwiches his mom made for him last night. He grabs a banana from the fruit bowl that Jo keeps and tosses that to Charlie. If she wants anything else, she can make it herself in the few seconds she has between now and when Dean plans to be pulling out of the garage.

Charlie sulks for as long as the drive as it takes for her to finish her banana. While he would have liked to save the sandwiches for lunch and supper like his mom wanted, Dean ends up eating one of them for his breakfast while he's driving.

After the first half of his sandwich, Dean waves the second at Charlie to get her attention. "So, who's on shift with us today?"

She waves her banana peel at him, mocking his gesture. "Bobby's in the office with your mom, and we've got Meg and Ruby on standby for the day." Of course she would know all the details, but that doesn't really answer his question. After a yawn, she gives the rest. "We're on shift with Benny and Nick. Keep your fingers crossed that he's not in a Lucifer-type mood today."

"It's _tonight_ I'm more worried about." Dean yawns and shakes his head to get the cobwebs out.

Nick is usually pretty good during the day when he's got distractions with equipment maintenance, the training refreshers, and the calls that they get. Oh God, the calls. With Dean's luck today, they're probably going to have a bunch of emergencies. And after emergencies, that means paperwork and he fucking _hates_ paperwork. Sure, he loves being organized, but paperwork just takes forever and _everything_ needs to be tracked and remembered and he just really doesn't like it.

"I hope Benny got his spell renewed yesterday like he was supposed to." Charlie muses out loud as she takes the Ziploc bag that Dean's sandwich had been in and seals the banana peel in it. "He said on the weekend that the sun was starting to feel too bright to him, and that only happens when the spell is starting to wear off."

There aren't many magic users who live in Montpelier so Benny has to make a day trip out to Boston in Massachusetts to get the protective spell for sun resistance renewed. Without that spell, Vampires and other Creatures that can't go out in the daylight are pretty much screwed and forced to stay in the dark. To Dean's understanding, that particular spell isn't exactly cheap to get and they need to be renewed every month or so, depending on the strength of the spell in the first place. It's gotta be a pain in the ass to get, but without it Benny wouldn't be able to stay on the force.

While Dean might _love_ to pry, he does his best not to ask too many questions most of the time. From what he understands, it takes a pretty strong Witch to cast that kind of spell. As far as he knows, there isn't a single Witch in town, so that's gotta suck for Benny. Some Creatures are born with some inherent magical abilities, like how Charlie can manipulate and create fire, but no one who's an actual _Witch_.

Magic is so fucking fascinating and it's on Dean's list of things to learn more about. If he wanted, he could learn some magic and maybe that's something he'll do down the line. It sucks that because he's Human, he'll never be a really strong magic user and he definitely won't ever be considered a Witch. The only way to be one of those is to be _born_ as one. Witches and Creatures are the only beings alive who can be _really_ strong users. In fact, Witches and all forms of magic users need to be registered and licensed with the government.

Dean's bones always start to tingle with excitement when he thinks about all the possibilities that exist with magic. He always gets psyched when he hears about black magic and the dark arts. As if Harry Potter didn't already make that sound cool enough, to know that it actually _exists_ is so badass. The only thing about Harry Potter that he couldn't wrap his head around is how the wizarding world managed to hide everything from the rest of the world. It's just so weird to think about a world where Creatures and magic aren't a part of daily life.

When he pulls into the parking lot, Dean gestures at Benny's beaten up old truck. "Looks like he's in." Which means the spell had to have been done. Bobby wouldn't let him in the station if he couldn't be out in the sun. The visors on their hoods don't filter out sunlight, so even their gear isn't enough to protect a Vampire.

"So are your parents." Charlie points out the truck next to Benny's. She flashes a grin at him as he pulls in next to it. "When was the last time they beat you to work? How much trouble are you going to be in?"

Good question. Dean glances at his watch while they're getting out of the Impala. They've still got a few minutes to clock in, so he's not technically _late_. "None, hopefully."

He locks the car and books it inside, keeping his fingers crossed that he won't get in any shit for this. That's all he needs to be the cherry on top of this already exhausting morning. Maybe he _will_ eat the leftover pie for breakfast. The sugar in that might be able to kick start his brain a little bit. Too bad Cas isn't working. His first morning break could be a coffee run, but he'll spend that cat napping and sucking back the sludge they call coffee in the break room.

Fuck, he can't wait for his break.

*

True to form, the day does its best to fuck him in the ass. His day involved helping his dad on the trucks and then driving back and forth across town for false alarm calls. One was someone having put chicken on the stove to boil and then thinking it was a good idea to take a fucking nap. That had boiled dry and the chicken started to burn, which set off the smoke alarm in their apartment. Of course when that was investigated, whoever opened the apartment left the door open and the smoke set off the building alarm – which is what summons the fire department.

The second call in the early afternoon was someone calling worried that their freshly graduated son had locked themselves in the bathroom for a suicide attempt. If the lady had bothered to knock on the door first, she would've learned that the _really_ long shower he was taking was for – well, the poor kid is probably never going to want to masturbate again. Granted, if he wanted to explore using his first dildo, he probably should've picked a better time than the middle of the day when his parents were home. Kudos to him for wanted to try that, though. Dean discovered his bisexual side in the summer following his twenty-first birthday and he definitely hasn't had to the courage to try anything like that yet.

The paperwork for all those calls is still fresh in his head and his supper sandwich is heavy in his belly when Dean heads into the bunk room to take his evening nap. Benny is already snoozing in the corner, wrapped up like a burrito in his blanket. While he expects to see that, Dean _isn't_ expecting to see Nick pulling back the blankets on one of the other beds.

"Hold the phone." Dean keeps his voice in a whisper, just so he doesn't bother Benny. "What are _you_ doing in here? You're supposed to be staying up with Charlie for the evening."

Nick shrugs and flashes him a grin as he gets under the covers. "I changed my mind and now I'm going to take a nap. We've had a busy day, in case you forgot."

Oh God. Dean has to fight the urge to groan. "Please tell me that doesn't mean that you're going to be up with Benny and me all night."

"Keep up that attitude and I absolutely will be." Nick hums and wiggles to get comfortable. "I already checked with Charlie if she's comfortable being on her own for a few hours, so don't you worry your pretty little head about what _I_ do."

Not only is that against protocol, but Dean really doesn't want Nick to stay up all night with them. He's not a _bad_ guy, per se, but Nick has rubbed him the wrong way ever since Dean joined the force. It probably didn't help matters none that one of the first thing Nick did was hit on him. That was _before_ Dean figured out that he was bisexual, but Nick is just – well, he's an ass. Bisexual or not, he's not Dean's type and he can get downright creepy with how he treats everyone.

Grumbling, Dean picks the bed farthest from where Nick is. "Yeah, sure, why don't we _all_ just take a nap then, huh? Charlie should get her ass in here and leave the whole station unmanned."

The sharp slap on his ass makes Dean jump and he whips around to find Charlie grinning at him. "You make a great little spoon, Dean, but I'm not tired." She wiggles _The Ruby Knight_ from the Elenium Trilogy at him, clearly having just got it from her locker on the other side of the room. "Unlike _some_ people, I actually went to bed at a _decent_ hour last night."

Nick sits upright in bed and his grin is downright _shark_ -ish. "Did I hear that right?" He waggles his eyebrows and it sends a chill down Dean's spine. "You're a _little spoon_ , Winchester?"

"Shut up and take your damn nap, Satan." He flips Nick the bird and drops into his own bed, ignoring Charlie too. All he wants to do is take his long nap before the night shift and now he's not looking forward to it like he was.

"They call me _Lucifer_. If you're going to call me names, at least get it right."

Dean just huffs and turns his back to him. Charlie sighs and grabs the edge of the blanket so she can tuck Dean in with it. "Sleep well, little prince."

"Fuck off, the both of you." He grumbles into his pillow and slaps at her hand as she ruffles his hair. "And finish up that book, already. I wanna read it too."

"You're not even done book one." She laughs quietly and ducks out of the room before he can pitch his pillow at her head.

By some miracle, Nick doesn't feel the need to add a final comment to the situation. His blankets rustle a little bit as he makes himself comfortable again, and then it's silence in the dark room – blessed silence. No matter how annoyed he is right now, Dean still manages to drop off within minutes and he has never been happier for it.

*

 **_Wednesday – September 30_ ** **_ th _ ** **_, 2015_ **

Benny wakes Dean up _well_ after he should be. Charlie is fast asleep in one of the other beds and Nick is nowhere to be seen when he sits up and looks around. The alarm that's always set on his phone – the one that he _knows_ was on when he went down for his nap – is turned off. Did he do that? He's not usually one to turn off his alarm in his sleep, as far as he knows.

"Charlie did it." Benny whispers as he helps Dean to his feet. "She said you didn't get a good night and we should let you sleep another couple hours." He pats Dean on the shoulder once he's standing. "It's coffee time and I figured that's when you'd wanna be up."

Coffee time? Oh! Cas time! Dean grins brightly and claps both hands down on Benny's shoulders. "Bless you and your Vampiric heart." He'll have to get Charlie a treat from the café as thanks. If there was ever a reason for her being his best friend, it's this.

There's totally a bounce in his step as he follows Benny out into the common area. Looks like he was in the middle of a poker game with Nick when he stopped to wake him. Dean immediately regrets letting his excitement show, because this funny kind of light fills Nick's face when he looks up from his cards.

"My, my!" He practically crows. "Don't you look perky tonight, my freckled friend!"

Dean sticks his tongue out at him and goes to pull on his pants and boots. "No comment."

If a call comes in while he's out, it'll save them time if he's already half-dressed when he runs back into the station. Once he's dressed, he pulls the change jar out of the cupboard above the sink to fish out enough for his coffee. After a pause, he gets enough for Nick's too. "You want coffee?"

Nick nods, but he's still grinning at Dean in the way that always ticks him off. "You know, the mere act of saying that you have no comment means that you _do_ have a comment to make." He tilts his head and looks Dean from head to toe. "If I had to guess, I'd say that you think Castiel is _cute_."

Dean freezes while he's counting out the change. How in the _fuck_ did Nick figure that out with just a glance? Better yet, how the hell does he know Cas's full name? Do they know each other or is there something more sinister going on? Everything that involves Nick is automatically sinister and Dean is none too pleased to think that Cas might have something to do with him. Oh dear God, please don't tell him that he's too late and Nick already got his hooks into Cas. That bastard always moves in quick on anyone he finds cute.

He clears his throat while he pockets the change. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"See, I bet that you do." Nick leans back in his chair. "Or don't you know who Castiel is? He's the one who works overnight at the Graveyard Shift – the new favourite coffee bar for every night owl in Montpelier. And he's _really_ cute, don't you agree? I love his glasses."

No. _Hell_ no. Double fucking triple nope-ity _no_. Dean sets his glare to lethal. " _Dibs_."

Nick sits up slightly, his eyebrow quirking. "Dibs, you say? I believe I'll challenge you on that." He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. "When did you meet him?"

"I don't want to tell you." Dean turns his nose up at him and starts towards the door.

"Well _I_ was at the Graveyard Shift on opening night." The smug satisfaction in Nick's voice makes Dean stop and turn to face him again. "I do believe that means _I_ get dibs since I discovered him first."

Fuck. While that might be an age old unspoken rule among guys, Dean absolutely does not want to give Cas up to _Nick_ of all people. "You don't even know if he likes _guys_." And there's one of Dean's biggest fears already out in the open. Hopefully Nick doesn't pick up on that.

Benny sighs when Nick throws down his cards and stands up. Obviously their game isn't going to get a move on any time soon. "You really think _anyone_ is going to be able to resist this?" He waves his arm in a motion at himself.

Does he really want to go there? It's like he's declaring war or some bullshit like that. Nick might be fit, and he might even be considered attractive in the right light, but he does _not_ hold a candle to Dean fucking Winchester.

"Ex _cuse_ me?" Dean puts his hands on his hips and does his best to look like he's not about to start strutting his stuff around the common room. "Do you _really_ think that Cas would pick _you_ over _me_?"

The sad thing is that Dean is totally blowing smoke out his ass right now. He has no fucking clue what Cas's preferences might be. This could all be for naught as it is if Cas isn't into guys. For all Dean knows, he could be circling the base of the wrong tree, and he hasn't even started barking up it yet. He needs to keep testing the waters before he even considers doing something like that.

"You underestimate the size of my ego, Winchester." Nick shakes his head and fixes Dean with a look that borders on pity – and it makes his blood boil. He starts flexing, even going so far as to kiss his bicep.

Before Dean can even start weighing the consequences of slugging Nick, he turns on his heel and heads for the door again. "I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, refusing to continue this stupid conversation any further.

Dean doesn’t even get more than a few steps before Nick clears his throat loudly. “You know, we’re technically _not_ supposed to be leaving the fire hall while we’re on duty.”

“Bobby okayed midnight coffee runs as long as we’re staying in contact with the station and not gone for more than ten minutes.” The ‘ _so HAH_ ’ is left unspoken.

He flips Nick off and gets another few steps before Nick does that stupid throat thing again. Now he’s starting to remind Dean of Dolores Umbridge and that might actually be worse than naming him _Lucifer_. “He also said that we need to be _prepared_. You’re not looking very prepared to me. If we get a call in the next five minutes, your perky patootie is going to be slowing us down while you finish getting into the rest of your bunkers.”

With a groan, Dean turns around again. Nick is just doing this to piss him off. No one ever wears their jacket out of the hall unless there’s a call or they’re doing some kind of presentation somewhere that requires it. This is just vengeance for calling dibs on Cas first. Is it his fault that Nick wasn’t fast enough? Of course not. Fucker. Dean stalks across the common area to grab his under-jacket off the hook. It’s not the main coat with half his gear hanging off of it, but that fucker is big and bulky and he’s not going to wear it out of the station for anything short of a fire and an assembly room full of wide-eyed eight year olds on career day. He pulls that on and spreads his arms for approval, his glare still on lethal settings.

“Yes, that’s much better.” Nick sits down again and picks up his cards. “Now _do_ be sure to keep your phone on you. One never knows when something might _come up_.”

Dean loves his coworkers and his job, _except_ for Nick. Right now, he could throttle the bastard. He has and will continue trusting Nick with his life on a daily basis, and he’ll even be civil with him because Dean is an _adult_. But fuck if he ever got the chance to, he would punch the asshole without hesitation. Actually, that could probably be said about him too from a number of other people but Dean is going to just ignore that little hypocritical thought for now.

"Don’t forget, freckles! I take my coffee with three shots of espresso and a splash of chocolate milk!" Nick calls after him, voice singsong and irritating.

Before he has to listen to anything else, Dean hops the pole down to the garage to get away faster. Of course he already knows everyone's favourite drinks and it's almost insulting that Nick might think that he doesn't know it. Poor Benny is actually playing poker with the guy, and it looks like they might be stuck with him all night. Nick's coffee is on par with Dean's and neither one of them is going to be getting sleep once they start drinking.

It was just a few minutes ago that Dean was super excited to get to go see Cas. Now he's almost dreading it a little bit. Seriously, what are the chances that Cas would be into guys too? The only place Dean knows to meet guys who _are_ interested is at a gay club that Charlie started dragging him to the moment they were old enough to legally go. As far as he knows, he's never run into anyone who swings that way here in Montpelier (not including Charlie), let alone been _hit_ on here. And it's not like Cas flirted back with him the other night – if you can even count what Dean did as flirting.

In Dean's very limited experience, guys _always_ flirt back with him – even though he's not all that good at flirting with them in the first place. Granted, his experience is limited strictly to the gay club and that's a whole fucking _forty minutes_ away in Burlington. It's at that club where Dean got his first real dose of being hit on by guys. Like, seriously, _tons_. Dean was a little overwhelmed by how many guys started flirting with him and buying him drinks.

And then there was Aaron. That was a onetime make out session that Charlie managed to talk him into on their third trip to the club. He can still hear her asking; "What could it hurt to at least _try_?" Well, nothing was hurt, that's for sure. Aaron was a bit short for Dean's liking, but he was cute and the making out _was_ good. The over-the-clothes heavy petting only happened because Dean was more than a little buzzed. He needed that alcohol to get over the whole ' _holy shit I'm kissing a guy_ ' feeling.

When that went over _splendidly_ , Dean turned to porn. Ever since then, he's added all manner of gay porn to his repertoire when he needs that little extra oomph considering how lackluster his love life currently is. But, if he's _very_ lucky, Cas could change all of that. Maybe. It’s entirely possible that Cas is actually an asshole and Dean doesn’t know that because all he ever sees of him is his polite smile and customer pleasing attitude.

Either way, it makes Dean’s knees go all wibbly when he walks into the café and finds Cas at his laptop again, that concentration frown right back in place. It’s just so fucking _cute_ and God fucking _dammit_. If Cas was hot wearing a waistcoat before, Dean has literally no words for how downright _adorable_ he looks in a rumpled sweater. He is so totally regressing to high school on this and getting a crush on the cute barista. _Shit_.

_ _

Nothing feels better than a solid day of _the sleep_. Castiel never feels better or more alive than after one. He only _needs_ it every four days, but sometimes he thinks he wouldn’t mind doing it every day. It just feels so _good_ and he always feels so refreshed, but _the sleep_ is just so damn _inconvenient_. Castiel is never more vulnerable than when he’s _sleeping_ and he hates that feeling, no matter how much safe Gabriel’s spells make their home.

When the bell chimes, Castiel looks up and feels a smile building. Dean walks in and colour almost immediately fills his cheeks. It’s only been a few weeks since they opened, but Dean is definitely in the top three of Castiel’s favourite customers. He just finds his presence to be rather enjoyable and he likes seeing how Dean gets awkward and fumbly with his words. It’s quite adorable and rather endearing.

Castiel closes his laptop and stands up from his stool, the smile already fully in place whether he wants it to be or not. “Hello, Dean.”

The moment he says that, Dean stumbles slightly and surprise flickers across his face. It’s replaced with a bright smile and a nervous laugh. “It keeps throwing me off that you remember my name.”

“Well, you _did_ introduce yourself.” Castiel shrugs and moves his laptop to put it out of sight. “None of my other customers have done that yet, and that includes the other firefighters.”

To his surprise, Dean puffs up and his grin gets even bigger. “Not even Nick?”

Castiel takes a moment to think about it before he shrugs and shakes his head. He’s fairly certain that he doesn’t know anyone with that name. He’s only seen a few of the firefighters and he’s absolutely _positive_ that none of them shared their name like Dean did. Of course, Dean did also make quite the impression during his first visit. With that, he more or less secured a spot in Castiel’s memories.

Dean digs around in some of his pockets until he finds his phone. With a few taps on the screen, he pulls up a picture and holds it out for Castiel to see. “This is Nick.”

Oh. _Him_. Castiel’s smile falls into a frown now that he can put a name to the face. “He comes in usually when you’re not working.” This _Nick_ is not even remotely one of his favourite customers. “He berates my music choices, sings over it so I can’t hear the lyrics, and he is _very_ picky about how I make his coffee.” The first time Castiel had to make it for him, he had to make it _twice_ before Nick was satisfied.

Laughing, Dean puts his phone away. “His nickname at the hall is _Lucifer_.”

Castiel snorts a laugh and starts punching in the same drink that Dean always orders to get a head start on the order. “That’s rather fitting.” He reaches over to flip the switch on the coffee machine and get a fresh drip going. “I’m actually named after an angel too.”

That seems to get Dean’s attention. He rests his hands on the counter and leans forward, interest bright in his eyes. “Really? That’s super neat.” And then realization hits him and confusion draws his eyebrows together. “Wait a second. I’m pretty sure that you said your brother’s name was _Gabriel_ , right? Isn’t that – I’m pretty damn sure that’s an angel name too.”

“You would be correct, yes.” He keeps his eyes focused on the cash register, taking his time to add the espresso shots. “It’s the name of an _archangel_ , actually.”

“Oh, wow.” Dean’s huffs a small laugh and leans back again. “Did your parents do that on purpose?”

No. “Absolutely.”

Gabriel and Castiel were the names of their parents’ favourite angels, and that was the inspiration behind why they bear the names now. But these are most certainly _not_ the names their parents gave them. While Castiel really does like his current name, it leaves a bitter tang on the back of his tongue. It’s been a _very_ long time since he used his birth name, but he kind of misses it sometimes.

Dean’s laugh draws him from his melancholy thoughts. “Well, at least they’re _good_ names. You could’ve been stuck with something weird.”

Castiel mentally shakes himself out and looks up with a raised eyebrow. “Such as?” The blank look that falls across Dean’s face almost makes him laugh. “Or would you prefer a change of subject? Might I suggest starting with your _order_?”

Colour fills Dean’s cheeks and he glances down at the counter, mumbling out the order. With no small measure of amusement, Castiel types the rest of it into the cash register. Now he has a name to put towards the chocolate milk splash. It’s an affront to coffee, as far as he’s concerned, but he won’t make any comment on it. People are allowed to have their preferences, even if they’re _wrong_. Castiel likes his coffee black with _maybe_ a dash of sugar if he’s feeling particularly adventurous that day. Anything else ruins the flavour of the roast.

Aside from the ambient music being piped through the speakers, the café is silent while Castiel makes the drinks. It doesn’t unnerve him in the slightest, but Gabriel has more or less beaten it into his head that normal people are bothered by it. Since they made the decision to open a café together, Castiel has been well schooled in small talk – even if he’s doesn’t see any particular need for it. Right now, however, he thinks that might help Dean feel less awkward for not knowing the names of other angels.

He glances up from adding the shots of espresso to Dean’s drink. “How was your weekend?”

Small talk works wonders with him and Dean brightens up again in a heartbeat. He starts drumming his fingers on the counter to the beat of the music. “Busy, I guess. Been working and shit. What about you?”

“It was fine.” Castiel shrugs and puts a lid on Dean’s drink. He puts it in the tray so he can start on Nick’s. “Do you mind if I ask what you do when you’re not working? From my understanding, firefighters work twenty-four hours and have forty-eight off. Is that correct?” He had looked into it as part of his research when he and Gabriel were selecting the location for their café. They considered it a bonus that firefighters could be coming in often, not to mention everyone who works in city hall practically right across the street from them.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dean bobs his head in a nod and shuffles over to the side to look at the pastry case. “I usually spend my forty-eight free hours sleeping, working on the car – she’s my baby, visiting with my little brother, and doing shit around the house.” He sighs loudly and bends over to look at tonight’s selection. “Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who wants to keep it _clean_. And I am totally taking whatever the hell that long donut looking thing is with the chocolate on top.”

“That’s an éclair and it’s filled with a chocolate cream.” Castiel adds Nick’s coffee to the tray. “Are you sure you want it?”

Dean nods again and flashing a smile at him. “Since you don’t have any pie, that’s going to have to do.”

An odd reason, but it’s acceptable. Castiel taps a few keys on the cash register to add a pastry to the order. His laptop catches his eye again and a thought occurs to him. “Do you have any pets?”

“My little brother has a dog, but that’s at the childhood home so Bones isn’t really _mine_.” He shrugs and watches intently as Castiel picks the fattest éclair for him, just as a perk for being one of his favourite customers. “I live on my own, sorta. No pets, but I’ve got two roommates who can be assholes sometimes, I guess.”

Castiel bags the éclair expertly and rests it on top of the coffee cups. “Are you always this free with information about yourself?”

Dean starts counting change out of his pocket but pauses and glances up at him. “Sorry?”

“In the span of thirty seconds I’ve learned that you have a house with two roommates, a younger brother who still lives at home with your parents, and that he has a dog.” Castiel accepts the change as Dean hands it over slowly. “Oh, and you have a car that you seem to care about a lot.” On top of what little he’s already learned about Dean from his previous visits.

“Okay, I’m just gonna point out right now that my baby is a _classic_.” He huffs and dumps the rest of his change into the tip jar. “She needs constant tender loving care to stay in _prime_ condition.”

While that is all well and good, there is still one glaring problem with that response. “That doesn’t answer my question.” It doesn’t affect Castiel in the slightest whether or not Dean is always this liberal with his personal information, but he _is_ rather curious.

Dean rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips that’s throwing Castiel off. “I like to think that I can read people pretty well.” He takes a deep breath and leans forward on the counter again. “If I didn’t think you were trustworthy, Cas, I wouldn’t be sharing shit with you.”

Oh. Something like surprise, but a lot warmer, floods Castiel’s chest in a sharp geyser of feeling. It leaves him stunned. “You – you think I’m _trustworthy_?” But they’re practically strangers to each other! Castiel would hardly even consider Dean to be an acquaintance. What could he have possibly done that would make Dean think that he’s like that?

“Sure do.” Dean nods and graces Castiel with a bright smile. “You’ve got the face for it, Cas. I can just _tell_ – or am I wrong?”

He arches an eyebrow at him in challenge and Castiel fights the urge to frown. Of course he isn’t wrong, but Castiel liked it better when Dean was awkwardly fumbling on his words and having trouble looking him in the eye. The confidence is nice, but he rather misses how adorable Dean was before.

With a sigh, Castiel closes the cash drawer. “I keep better secrets than graves do.” He has to. It’s a necessity for him to survive.

“That’s a pretty serious claim there, Cas.” Both of Dean’s eyebrows are up now, either out of surprise or something else entirely.

“I’m a very serious person.” He shrugs and pushes the tray of drinks and the éclair across the counter. “Will that be all for you tonight, Dean?” It’s not that he wants to kick him out or anything, but he wants to move the topic of conversation off of _him_ before it becomes evident that there are some thing he just can’t say about himself.

Disappointment flickers over Dean’s features and his smile fades slightly, gaze dropping to the coffee cups. Castiel realizes with a jolt that he might very well have said something to hurt his feelings. Maybe it _did_ sound like he was hinting that Dean should leave now. That’s not entirely the case, but now there’s a heavy weight settling in his chest. What if he loses Dean as a customer? That would be terrible. Not only would he lose a customer, but he’d lose one of his _favourites_.

When Dean picks up the tray, he moves the éclair to one hand. A memory sparks and Castiel reaches out to put a hand over the coffees. “I forgot something.”

“You – huh?” Dean looks up sharply, eyebrows raised again.

“Since the last time you came here, I forgot to tell Gabriel about your interest in pies.” Castiel pulls open a drawer next to the cash register and gets a pen and a pad of sticky notes. Right there where Dean can see, he writes ‘ _Make Pies to Sell_ ’. “Do you have a preference?”

Dean is leaning forward now, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“I’m a very serious person, Dean.” He looks up, a half smile tilting his lips. “Please tell me what your preference of pie is.”

“Apple is the best, hands down.” After a pause, Dean shrugs. “But pecan is a close runner up too.”

Castiel nods and writes ‘ _apple_ ’ and ’ _pecan_ ’, circling the both of them. “When do you work next?”

“I’m off at eight.” Dean leans back again and scratches at the back of his head. “I don’t work again until eight o’clock on Friday.”

It takes no time at all to do the quick mental math to figure out how many days he has until Dean will be back. “Is it alright of me to assume that you’ll be back at two o’clock on Saturday for your coffee?”

That brings Dean’s smile back to full brightness. “Yes, of course!”

Excellent. He writes that on the note too. “Then I’ll make sure we have an apple or pecan pie for you when you return.” Castiel pulls the sticky note from the pad and puts it on the register so he won’t forget. When he cashes out in the morning, he can give it straight to Gabriel.

“ _Really_?”

Castiel is not even remotely prepared for the delighted grin that practically erupts across Dean’s face. He’s fairly certain that it’s the happiest he’s ever seen anyone be. _Ever_. The delight in his eyes is almost embarrassing and Castiel has to avert his eyes. “Yes, really.”

“Welp!” Dean picks up his coffee and éclair with a happy laugh. “It’s official! This is my favourite coffee joint in the whole world. You’ve got yourself a customer for _life_.”

That’s wonderful to hear and Castiel has to resist the urge to puff up with pride. He’s very happy to hear that he managed to not only save Dean as a customer, but also caused him such joy. “You sure you want to make that decision _before_ you try my brother’s pies?”

“Good point.” He laughs again and shrugs. “Let’s put a pin in that for now.”

Dean’s laughter sounds, in short, _wonderful_. It’s surprisingly addictive and brings an honest smile to Castiel’s lips whether he wants it to or not. Even the smallest things that Dean does are just so _amusing_ to him. In the week and a half that the café has been open, there hasn’t been a single customer yet who has managed to make want to or, rather, _actually_ smile as much as Dean does. In fact, his smile is more honest with Dean than it is with anyone else.

Warning bells go off in the back of Castiel’s mind the moment he realizes just how _dangerous_ that line of thought is. He discards it immediately, shaking his head to get it out of his mind. It should mean – it _does_ means nothing that he enjoys having Dean as a customer. Castiel can’t even think about befriending him. There’s every chance that his past will catch up to him and even _friends_ will be hurt. That’s not a risk he’s willing to take. He won’t allow anyone to be hurt because of him.

His eyes catch the edge of the laptop and Castiel brings it back on top of the counter. He’s got more work to do – and that reminds him of something. “May I ask you a question?”

“I’m all ears, Cas.” Dean tilts his head, eyebrows raised invitingly.

“Do you know of any groomers in the Montpelier area?” From Castiel’s searches, there aren’t any turning up within the city itself. Hopefully Dean might know of any unofficial groomers in the area that won’t require driving out of town to get the cat cleaned up.

His question appears to catch Dean by surprise. “A what?”

“You mentioned your family has a dog. Do you get it groomed?” Castiel refrains from looking up, instead focusing on opening his laptop to access the document he was working on previously.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dean hums. “Um, I guess so? Mom has mentioned a few times about having to take the dog to get groomed. Why, you have something that needs grooming?”

Castiel nods but gives no further information. Unlike Dean, he isn’t in the habit of oversharing. He also doesn’t base how trustworthy a person is because of their _face_. While Dean does seem to be very nice, Castiel has _years_ of experience with silence. His safety – and Gabriel’s – is too important for him to just go about spewing information everywhere.

Dean hums and shifts the coffee tray to his other hand, swapping it with the éclair. “Honestly, I dunno but I can ask? I’ll come back in the morning after my shift and let you know.”

At the end of his shift? That’s six hours now and that’s a whole hour after Castiel finishes his shift. Either Dean would have to leave work early, or Castiel would need to stay up later than he has any right being awake. And there’s the _sun_ to worry about too. No, it would be much better of Dean to simply send him the information when he has it.

“You’ll be tired after your shift and you should go home and sleep.” Castiel quickly jots down the e-mail address for the café on the sticky note and hands it to Dean. “If you know of a groomer, you can email me here. Gabriel might get it before I do, but he’ll know what to do.”

This address forwards to his personal e-mail address and he can check it on his phone whenever he wants. But it also goes to the work laptop that he and Gabriel keep in the living room. He’ll have to make sure to tell him to keep an eye out for the e-mail. Otherwise, he might be rather confused by it.

“Oh, okay.” When Dean looks at the sticky note, disappointment flickers over his face again. He tucks the note away in his pocket. “I should head back now, but I’ll definitely let you know in the morning.”

Castiel nods and lifts his hand in a wave. “Thank you for your business. It was nice to see you again.”

In an instant, Dean is smiling brightly again. “Yeah, you too.” He starts backing away with his coffee and almost immediately bumps into a table. “Shit, sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve done that.” Castiel tilts his head and frowns at the table. “Is it in a bad place? Should I move it?”

“No!” Dean shakes his head and coughs. “I mean, no, it’s fine. I’m just – I’m a klutz around cu –” He closes his mouth with an audible snap and a blush fills his cheeks. “I’m just a klutz. I should be – I’m – yeah. Um, bye!”

Dean turns on his heel and all but runs out of cafe, leaving Castiel torn between confusion and amusement. There’s the awkward Dean he knew from before, but the awkward Dean was always rather confusing. He was normal for the majority of their conversation and then suddenly he became _weird_. And isn’t it a rather bad thing for a _firefighter_ to be _klutzy_?

In any case, that was quite the interesting reaction. _Dean_ is interesting. He’s exactly the kind of customer that Castiel imagined he would have coming in to _The Graveyard Shift_. He was counting on it, rather, to keep things interesting for him during his shifts because sometimes he can’t exactly find the things to keep himself entertained. Now being the exception, of course.

Before he gets back to what he was doing before Dean walked in, Castiel gets himself a lemon meringue tart from the display case. He marks it down as the one freebie that he gets for his shift. While he eats it, he continues typing information into the poster he had started the other day. It’s much easier to do now that he has the information for it.

Gabriel took the cat to the vet on Tuesday to get it – to get _her_ checked out and they did what they could. For a stray, the cat is apparently in remarkable health. She has no parasites to speak of and she’s of a rather healthy weight. They were even able to cut out most of the mats in the cat’s fur, although they still recommend that the cat should still go to a groomer to be properly cleaned up.

On the bright side, the vet also wasn’t able to find any microchip, spell of ownership, or tattoo. At the moment, the running bet is that the cat either escaped and got lost, or she was abandoned. It’s sad, considering that the poor thing is less than a year old. Who would dare to abandon something so young and small? If that’s what happened, then Castiel both loves and hates the previous owners. If they really did abandon her, then no one is likely to claim her and that means _Castiel_ can keep her as his own.

In fact, he’s already started making such arrangements. As far as Gabriel knows, the litter box and litter is meant entirely to keep the cat comfortable while they wait for her proper owner to come get her. Gabriel has even spelled the litter box to make sure that any smell won’t leave it to stink up their apartment. Not that it should really matter to him. After all, the box is kept in _Castiel’s_ bedroom – though he can’t deny that it is _very_ helpful to have a brother who knows magic, despite having first learned it to protect them from Witches

With the information from the vet, Castiel finishes up the poster with her breed, Siamese Himalayan, and adds a picture that he took today. He would rather wait for when the cat is fully and properly shaved, but he needs to get these posters out _now_. She’ll be groomed as soon as possible, but that’s not absolutely required of them right now.  What if her family really is looking for her? It would be unfair to keep her from them any longer for the sake of vanity.

Once the picture is in place, Castiel saves the document and prints a good thirty sheets. Since he’s not sure if the printer has that much paper in it, that means he has the perfect excuse to go upstairs and see if the cat is still awake. The printer is kept up at their desk in the living room. It sits on top of the filing cabinet next to the desk, where they store all the work for the café. Gabriel is mostly in charge of making sure that all the paperwork is done, but Castiel takes care of keeping everything _organized_.

“Balthazar, watch the front.” He makes a flippant gesture towards the door as he starts up the stairs. “I need to go get something upstairs.”

Castiel doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s already upstairs by the time Balthazar likely registers what he’s said. By that point, Castiel’s focus is already on the muffled meowing he can hear from the other side of his bedroom door. She seems just as happy to see him as he is to see her. When he opens his bedroom door, she comes bounding out to greet him. Immediately, the cat starts curling around his feet, mewling and purring loudly at him.

After a few steps, Castiel can’t resist the temptation anymore. He puts his laptop on the next available surface and leans down to scoop her up into his arms. She doesn’t seem to mind being cradled on her back. In fact, she quite seems to like it. Her purr only gets louder and she slaps at his hand when he tickles her belly. She really is quite sweet and has clearly taken a liking to him. Likewise, Castiel is growing very fond of her as well.

He doesn’t feel much like leaving her alone for the rest of the night, since she doesn’t seem to be able to sleep. Castiel makes up his mind and keeps her in the crook of his arm while he gathers the papers. Turns out the printer _did_ have enough in it. He’ll have to make a mental note to refill it before he goes to bed in the morning. At the moment, his hands are a bit too full to pull that off.

The cat is still purring happily in his arm when he goes down the stairs into the café’s kitchen again. He’s barely stepped off the staircase when Balthazar stops what he’s doing and stares at him from across the worktop. “You know, that’s a health code violation, right?”

Oh, that is a rather good point. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get Gabriel to do something about the fur.” He shrugs and adds that to his mental notes. If at all possible, he really would like to have the cat down in the café with him at night. Whether she sleeps or not is not concern of his. He could easily get her a bed for down in the café.

“So, that’s your Sidhe that Anna told me about?”

Not that again! Castiel rolls his eyes and ignores the comment. The cat meows and he hushes her. “Don’t listen to the crazy Fae. You’re just a normal cat and now you’re part of the family.” For however long that will be. These posters might shorten that time considerably.

Balthazar scoffs loudly. “Gabriel said that you’re _not_ keeping the cat.”

“That remains to be seen.” He huffs and holds his head high as he goes back to the front.

Somehow, the damn Fae still manages to get the last word in. “Would now be a good time to remind you that you forgot your nametag again?”

Castiel groans. He keeps forgetting it because he doesn’t bother punching himself in since he’s the boss. But it’s too late for him to do it now, and he’s definitely not going back into that kitchen where Balthazar can tease him some more. He’ll have to make a mental - and physical - note to remember it tomorrow night.

The cat meows when he puts her down around his feet. She slinks after him, keeping low to the ground and sniffing at her new environment. Castiel lets her explore while he tapes one of his posters about a found cat to the front door. For good measure, he tapes another two to both windows on either side of the door. She’s back around his feet again when he gets a few more to bring upstairs to the patio.

Without hesitation, she follows him up the stairs and starts winding around his ankles when he stops. Castiel lets her do as she pleases while he tapes two more posters to the inside of the doors. He’ll put some on the outside when she’s back up in the apartment. If she _is_ an escapee, he doesn’t want to risk having her near an open door.

Once the posters are in place, Castiel sits on the top step and surveys the café. As soon as he’s sitting, the cat jumps right into his lap and starts purring again. She’s clearly after some good scratches and he is more than happy to oblige. He gets his fingers under her chin she starts kneading his thigh, her purr rumbling against his fingers.

“I’ll be going for a walk tomorrow night before I start work.” Castiel dips his head as he talks to her, not even sure why he’s doing it. “I want to put up those posters around town. Well, I don’t _want_ to, but I _need_ to. Your family could be looking for you.”

She meows softly and pulls away to butt her head against his fingers. Castiel transfers the scratch to behind her ears. “Can I tell you a secret?” He leans over her a little more, curling an arm around her. Castiel drops his voice into a whisper so not even Balthazar will be able to hear him. “I hope that no one will come and take you from me.”

While Castiel may not let himself get close to any people, he might not let himself _fall_ for anyone, he’s fairly sure that it should be safe to let himself fall for this cat. The cat stands up to rub her head against his chin and Castiel touches the crystal around his neck. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. A lover or a friend might not be safe around him, but Castiel is certain that nothing wrong would ever happen to a _cat_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥

_ _

_ _

**_Wednesday – September 30 th, 2015_ **

The moment Dean walks back into the fire station, Nick is giving him the most _ridiculous_ look. His face is doing this funny kind of dance. It kinda looks like he’s trying to hold in a fart of explosive proportions. Like he’s constipated or something. One look at Benny confirms that Nick hasn’t been farting up a storm, so that means _nothing_ good is going to happen now. That stupid face is waiting for him and Dean fucking knows it.

“Here.” He puts the coffee down next to Nick and goes right past the table to the communal computer.

It’s an ancient old PC that still runs an outdated version of Windows. Hell, the monitor is a goddamn _CRT_ and Dean hasn’t seen one of those since the early 2000s. There’s a running bet going through the station on how long it’s going to lasts. Charlie claims that’s it’s going to die in the next six months, and Dean is inclined to believe her. The only reason they have Wi-Fi now is because of her. She bitched and complained so much about the shitty computer that Bobby changed the rules and now everyone can bring their personal laptops in – as long as they sign all sorts of waivers and bullshittery not to abuse the Wi-Fi on their private machines.

Dean doesn’t bother with any of that. He’s plenty happy with cable, books, cards, and the computer they’ve got now. It’s not like he’s going to be streaming anything here. That’s for the safety and security of his own home. The only thing he ever really needs the internet for while he’s on shift is to Google the odd bit of information – which he could easily do on his phone. What with Wi-Fi and all saving him from having to waste data on it.

But there’s just something special about clicking away on a keyboard to do some research that his phone just can’t give him. And that’s why Dean settles down at the computer and boots the old thing up. It takes a solid five minutes to get the thing running and get an internet browser loaded. Not just _any_ internet browser either. It’s goddamn Internet Explorer and he can still remember Charlie holding back her tears when she found out that’s the only browser that would run on this thing.

His coffee is damn near perfect as he sips at it. Cas makes a great cup’a Joe and Dean sighs happily. So, Castiel is supposed to be the name of an angel, huh? It’s not one that he’s ever heard of, so that’s the first thing he searches once the browser is fully loaded. This is a risky thing to do with Nick in the room, but the curiosity is hitting him hard and he just _has_ to know.

The first thing the search brings back is something about a character from a book series. Dean barely glances at that. He knows some of Carver Edlund’s work and he doesn’t enjoy the style too much. Funny enough, though, Google gives him just enough information about the Castiel from the books is that he’s an angel. There’s no chance that Cas was named for _that_ particular angel, considering the series is only a few years old.

As soon as Dean spots the first Wikipedia page for the name _Castiel_ , he clicks it and muffles a laugh into his drink. The name could refer to the book character, a municipality in Switzerland, or – Ah _hah_. There it is. Biblical Lore of the angel variety. That’s what he’s been looking for and he swoops in with the mouse to click the link, pleased that he managed to find it.

Dean skims through it, learning what he can about it. Castiel is derived from Cassiel, yadda yadda yadda. There’s a bunch of religious and Biblical mumbo jumbo that he skips over entirely. The one thing that catches his eye is that this particular angel is, in some various branches of religion, considered to be an _archangel_. Impressive! So that makes two archangels in the family then. Castiel is also apparently the angel of Thursday, if the internet is to believed. Well, isn’t that a funny coinkydink? The first time he met Cas was on a Thursday.

By some miracle of God, Dean manages to get through that search without Nick noticing. His search for Montpelier groomers is not so lucky. He’s still waiting for the page to load when an arm looks around his shoulder and Nick leans against his side.

“So, how was our dear Castiel tonight?”

“Fine.” Dean huffs and tries to shrug him off.

Nick leans forward to squint at the screen in an overly exaggerated manner. “Groomers? Are you finally taking your brother to get a haircut?”

“You really wanna pick on my little brother with me right here and his _entire family_ on crew?” He turns his head just enough to give Nick a narrow-eyed glare. “Because you better watch your mouth.”

“It’s just a joke, freckles.” Nick ruffles Dean’s hair before he turns and walks away. “Don’t let it get your feathers ruffled.”

Sighing, Dean turns back to his search. He grabs the pad of paper they always keep out on the deck and he starts making a list of all the groomers in the area. None of them are actually in the town itself, but that’s good enough for him. He’ll ask his mom in the morning where they take Bones. He can be a dumbass Golden Retriever every so often, but he’s been Sam’s dog for a good seven years now and he’s a Winchester through and through.

Once he’s got his list, Dean shuts down the computer again. Before he goes to join Benny and Nick at their card game, he stops to stare at the sticky note Cas gave him. He’s hidden that from Nick so far and he plans to keep hide it forever, just like he’s going to keep hiding his disappointment that it’s a business email address and not a personal phone number. Honestly, what could he expect? This was only time number three that he’s met Cas – and as his _customer_ no less.

Honestly, Dean’s not even sure if he wants to devote any energy towards trying to get Cas’s number in the first place. For starters, Cas doesn’t give off any kinds of signals. Dean doesn’t have the first fucking clue if he’s interested or not. Is he gay? Bi? Pan? Is he even into people at all? What if he’s just into Creatures? That’s a possibility. There are totally Creatures who prefer to only get with other Creatures. Just like how there are Humans who only like to get with other Humans.

Dean’s dad is one such example of that. His views on Creatures aren’t much different from certain Church sects have on the gays. For the head of the Winchester clan, it’s bad enough that Dean’s best friend (and _roommate_ ) is a Creature. At least by this point it’s gotten down to just being _uncomfortable_ and not outright hating on Charlie for existing. It was never really at that point, but Dad totally wasn’t happy when Dean came home from Kindergarten talking excitedly about how he met a _Phoenix_.

God, Dean can’t even imagine what his dad’s reaction would be if he ended up _dating_ a Creature. Hell, how would he react if it turned out to be a dude? It’s not like Dean’s come out to his family yet. He doesn’t even know if he’s ever going to tell them. Dean might watch all the gay porn he can get his hands on when he’s in the mood for it, but it’s not like he’s actively gone out with a guy before. One make-out session does not count.

He sighs and shoves the pieces of paper into his pocket. That’s enough thinking about that for now. Time to focus on other things – like a good game of cards with his co-workers. Even if one of those coworkers is Nick and he’s decided that tonight he’s going to be a pain in Dean’s ass.

The calm doesn’t last for too long, though. It’s not long past three o’clock when an emergency call comes in. Even though she was sleeping, Charlie still manages to be down the pole and in the truck before Dean or Nick. Only three of them are going to respond. Benny is staying behind in case another call comes in. By the time the others are in the truck, Benny should already have notified the people who are on call. If another emergency comes in, they’ll suit up at home and meet Benny at the location. He’ll have their heavy gear on the truck, if needed.

Dean takes a few deep breaths as the engine starts up and the fire truck rumbles to live under him. He needs to focus on his job now, no matter what the call is about. Thankfully, this isn’t about a fire. _Unfortunately_ , it’s a medical emergency in the suburbs. That’s why all four of them aren’t rolling out. Dean, Charlie, and Nick are all that’s needed for this. They’ll assess the situation, deliver immediate medical attention since they’re all basically EMT certified.

Ambulance services have already been notified, but the hospital is actually out of town in Berlin. They’ll be ready to roll out, since it’s actually a super short drive, but Dean’s team are first responders. It’s their job to contact the ambulance and let them know if they’re needed or not. Considering the call, Dean is pretty sure they’re going to be showing up anyways.

When he pulls the truck out of the fire hall, Dean takes an immediate left onto Main Street. It takes them past the Graveyard Shift and, to his surprise, Cas is standing out on the sidewalk in all his rumpled glory. He’s a little down the street from the café, standing by a light post with a paper in hand. The headlights from the fire truck reflect in his glasses as they drive past. Dean resists the urge to wave, since they’re on duty and this really isn’t the time for it. Apparently Nick doesn’t agree, because _he_ practically throws himself out the window to wave at Cas.

_Asshole_. Dean throws a glare at him but Charlie digs her elbow into his ribs for it. That takes skill, considering the thickness of their clothes. She’s sitting between him and Nick with the GPS in one hand and her other hand on the siren switch. Charlie is ready and waiting to give a quick bloop if anyone happens to be in the way. That’s unlikely to happen at this time of night, but with nocturnal Creatures like Benny in the area, one can never be too safe. They do try to use the siren as little as possible at night. It would _suck_ to be woken up by an unnecessary siren.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens as they roll over the bridge. For Dean, medical emergencies are some of the worst calls they can get. He never forgets the ones that don’t make it – either while he’s there or before he gets there. Hopefully tonight they’ll be able to save this one.

*

It’s well after four o’clock when they finally drag their asses back to the fire station. Even the adrenaline of a call and the awesome coffee he had before that isn’t enough to keep Dean from feeling fucking _exhausted_. All he wants right now is to fall into bed and sleep for the next decade. He doesn’t even care about his gear. If it means he could sleep, he’ll fucking just sleep in his bunkers like a heathen.

Dean’s still wearing his pants and heavy coat when he drops onto the couch in the common area, face down in the pillows. The medical emergency was an old guy that had fallen down the stairs and was experiencing chest pains. His family thought he might’ve broken a rib or two along with the arm he broke when he fell, but it turns out that he was actually having a freaking _heart attack._ It was up to Dean and Charlie to keep the guy alive while Nick set his arm before the ambulance got there.

That didn’t take too long, but Dean’s team still hung back after the old guy was taken away. The family that didn’t go in the ambulance was freaking the fuck out about grandpa. It was up to Dean and the crew to calm the family down and comfort them. They did eventually all pile into the family car and go after grandpa, but it took them a while to calm down. Dean has high hopes that the old guy is going to be okay. He was still conscious when the ambulance showed up, and that’s a good sign. Even the actual EMTs who came with the ambulance said it looked like a very mild heart attack and he should be fine.

Despite that, Dean is still worried. He always worries about everyone, no matter the call. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but this is a small town and chances are that the six degrees of separation bullshit definitely applies. Hell, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if his parents know the old guy. After all, he does live in the same neighbourhood as they do.

“Hey, freckles.” Nick taps the back of his head and Dean groans. They need to get another couch because he does _not_ feel like sharing right now. “Freckles, get up and do your paperwork.”

Oh God. He’d rather share the couch than do some fucking paperwork. Dean groans again and pulls the pillow over his head. “Five minutes. Just gimme five minutes.” He needs to get his shit together and chill for a bit before he even thinks of doing anything else.

A nice little cat nap is sounding pretty awesome right around now. After his nap, he’ll strip out of his bunkers and get back to work. All the after-call paper work is going to be the end of him, but it needs to get done or Bobby will quite literally show up at Dean’s door, drag him out of bed, and make him fill out the paperwork on his bedroom floor while he’s in his pajamas. It hasn’t happened to _him_ yet, but he’s heard the horror stories of what Bobby does to those who don’t follow regulations.

Late night emergencies are horrible in their own right and Dean kinda hates them a lot. They’re just so fucking draining. Anyone who wasn’t tired beforehand is definitely tired now. It’s only been a few hours since his coffee and now it’s like he needs a second one – or at least some kind of sugary treat. After what he just did, he damn well deserves one. But where, oh where, would he be able to get both coffee _and_ a treat?

There’s only one answer to that and Dean pushes himself up from the couch. Screw having a nap, it’s time for some paperwork! It might take him a while to finish it and make sure everything is kosher with the reports from everyone else, but he’s _definitely_ going to be going back to the Graveyard Shift before he’s finished work.

_ _

“Good morning, baby brother!” Gabriel ruffles Castiel’s hair and almost makes him crinkle a fold in the last crane of his shift. “Anything exciting happen tonight?”

Castiel swats his hand away and shoots him a dirty look. “Nothing exciting ever happens on the night shift. You know that.” And that’s exactly why he picked this shift. He’s had enough excitement to last him a lifetime and he’s not interested in anymore.

“Yeah, yeah.” With a loud sigh, Gabriel makes a shooing motion at the cat where she’s draped herself over Castiel’s feet. “What is that thing doing down here? A cat isn’t supposed to be in the cafe. She’s supposed to be up in your room.”

“She was lonely.” He flips his hand in a mockery of Gabriel’s gesture and abandons his crane to pick her up. The cat mewls softly, but otherwise stays limp in his hands. “And now she’s very tired. If you’re so opposed to her being down here, I don’t suppose she’ll mind being taken back upstairs now.”

Gabriel stares at him as Castiel flips the cat onto her back and cradles her like a baby again. She gives a little groan and her tail twitches a bit, but she hardly moves. It’s entirely too cute and Castiel can’t help smiling at it. He’s falling for this cat rather quickly. Hopefully, once he puts the signs up, her owner will get her before he gets too attached.

After another minute of silence, Gabriel shoves at Castiel’s shoulder. “Oh my God, stop looking at it like that. Just go put the damn thing in your bedroom and let it _sleep_.” His hand comes up to ruffle Castiel’s hair again. “Tomorrow night you can bring ‘er down again.”

“Really?” Castiel swivels on his stool to face Gabriel. That’s an unusually nice offer – which means there’s likely another reason for it. He must be up to no good. That’s basically one of Gabriel’s default settings. “I thought you just said she’s not supposed to be down here?”

“She’s getting hair all over the place.” Gabriel gestures down at Castiel’s pants, all of which are absolutely covered in fur. “Of _course_ she’s not supposed to be down here.” A superior and altogether _smug_ smile spreads over his lips and he puffs his chest out slightly. “But I can make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh! Does he really know a spell that might be able to do that? He does have a much larger repertoire than Castiel does, and he’s very smart when it comes to figuring out how to put together different spells to get a job done. If he can create a new one that would keep the cat from shedding all over the café, then Castiel would be _very_ happy.

“Is there anything that I can do to help?”

Even though he’s the actual Creature between the two of them, Castiel just doesn’t have the same amount of magic that Gabriel does. His species isn’t exactly magical to begin with, so he’s no better than some Humans in that regard. Given how adept Gabriel is with magic, his father must have had some Witch in his lineage. They certainly know for a fact that their mother – the only actual blood link between them – didn’t have an ounce of magic in her veins.

“I might need you to help boost a bit since I’ll be covering the whole café.” Gabriel shrugs and glances around, probably mentally measuring the space to figure out the necessary strength of the spell. “If I can make up a focus sigil, you could draw it for me. You’ve got the better hand for it.”

Castiel nods and gets to his feet, rocking the cat gently in his arms. “You craft it, I’ll draw it. I can even do research if you need it.”

“I’ll let you know. Now shoo and get the cat out of here.” He huffs and gives Castiel a shove towards the door. “Go on and put her to bed. I’ll watch the front for you.”

“Have I mentioned that you’re the best big brother ever?” Castiel throws a smile back over his shoulder. He’s very pleased that Gabriel is getting more and more used to the cat with each passing day.

Balthazar scoffs loudly and slams the door to the oven where he bakes the bread. “Ex _cuse_ me! If you bothered to get anyone else’s opinion, you would learn that _I_ am the best big brother ever. Ask Anna. She’ll tell you the same.”

“Really?” Castiel pauses at the foot of the stairs to arch an eyebrow at him. “I’ve spoken with Anna before and I’ve heard a _very_ different story.”

That earns him a dark scowl, but it’s offset by Gabriel’s laughter from the front of the café. Castiel is pleased with himself for that and he heads up to the apartment. As carefully as he can, he tries to put the cat down in the box he had prepared for here the other day. He’s not even out of the door before she’s meowing and moving.

When he glances back, the cat is stretching, her back curving up in a rounded arc as she yawns. She blinks at him a few times before hopping over the edge of the box and padding across the room. One would think that she owned the place judging by how she settles herself on the bed, kneading at the blankets around her and purring again. After turning in a few circles, she flops over on her side and rolls onto her back. She wiggles and twists, splaying her dark legs out before she flips onto her stomach again. With a quiet chirring sound, she curls back up into a ball and tucks her face under her paws.

Castiel can’t resist giving her one more good scratch. “I’ll be back in a few hours and I’ll permit you to cuddle with me during the day.”

Of course she doesn’t respond, but it does make him feel unusually warm inside to know that she’ll be here and waiting for him when he’s done his shift. She curls into a tight ball and Castiel gives her one more scratch before he forces himself to leave. He can hardly wait until he can see what she’ll look like once she’s been groomed.

Actually, that reminds him. When he’s back down in the café, Castiel pushes Gabriel off his stool and takes a seat. “If you see an email from Dean Winchester on _The Graveyard Shift_ ’s account. It will be a recommendation about where you can take the cat to get groomed.”

Gabriel groans loudly and stops in the doorway to bonk his head against the frame. “I hate that you’re making me do all the running around for this thing.”

“You know I would do it if I could.” Unfortunately there isn’t a spell strong enough to protect him from the sun. Otherwise he would load up on every single spell the world has to offer. Just once, Castiel would like to see a proper sunrise. Or even a sun _set_ would be nice too.

“I know, I know.” With a soft sigh, Gabriel turns back to him. “So, Dean Winchester. Who’s that?”

Oh no. Why did he use a name? Castiel should never have used a name. The lid on the proverbial can of worms has been popped and they’re quickly squirming out everywhere. He can tell just by the _look_ in Gabriel’s eyes. His big brother senses must be tingling because he obviously knows that this is a prime opportunity for teasing. If he was a normal person, Gabriel would also know that there is _nothing_ Castiel can be teased about regarding Dean.

“He’s a customer, Gabriel.” Castiel shrugs and turns back to his origami. “Who else would he be?”

“Well, personally, _I_ think that he’s your bumbling beau of a fireman.” Gabriel negates the act of turning around by actually coming back out into the café and standing on the other side of counter from Castiel. “Am I right or am I _right_?”

Dammit. “You’re wrong in calling him a _bumbling beau_.” He sighs and picks up his crane, turning it over in his hands to remind himself of where he left off. “But you’re not wrong about him being a fireman.”

To his horror, Balthazar joins them in the café too. He even comes around the counter to stand next to Gabriel. To make matters worse, he leans over and whispers _something_ in his ear. Gabriel breaks into a wide grin almost immediately and it’s identical to the one that Balthazar has, although he doesn’t have wings to flutter ominously like Balthazar does. What did he say? Why are they looking at him like that? _Why_ are they walking away without saying anything?

Castiel’s paranoia sky rockets as Balthazar and Gabriel head back into the kitchen. He turns to watch them with narrowed eyes. They’re up to something. When they put their heads together and start giggling, Castiel knows without a shadow of a doubt that they’re up to no good. He’s going to wind up being the butt end of jokes for the next two hours and he is not looking forward to it.

In an effort to prevent that from happening, he shuts the door between the kitchen and the café. If they want to be mean and teasing big brothers, they can do it to each other. Castiel has no interest in it. He just wants to fold his crane and spend the next hour folding as many dragons as he can. Ideally, he would like to do that in peace.

By some miracle of God, by the time six o’clock rolls around, he hasn’t heard a peep from the kitchen. It’s merely a promise from something worse to come, but there’s nothing Castiel can do about it. He might be teased or pranked or any number of things. It’s not like Gabriel has retaliated yet for the bucket of water Castiel had left for him last week. That’s still hanging above his head like the guillotine blade waiting to drop. In this case, it’ll likely explode into confetti after nearly giving Castiel a heart attack. That seems to be Gabriel’s modus operandi and it doesn’t help that Balthazar apparently shares the same preferences as him.

At six o’clock, Castiel draws the blinds over the windows and the doors. Just to be careful, he also closes the curtains over them. Gabriel prefers the café to be bright and open after the changeover, so it’s only for that one hour when Castiel is down here that they need to keep the blinds drawn. When Balthazar takes over the front at seven o’clock, he’ll open everything up again once Castiel is safely upstairs. He covers the front until nine o’clock when Tessa comes in.

While he waits for the end of his shift, Castiel tidies up a bit. He already keeps an exceptionally clean café when he’s working, so it’s just a matter of cleaning out the display case. By seven o’clock, Gabriel will have the first wave of croissants, cinnamon buns, and scones ready to be put in the case. Everything from yesterday gets packaged up for Balthazar to take when he’s finished his shift. As he does that, Castiel marks down how much he’s boxing up.

They need to track everything they throw out, even if they won’t really be tossing all of this into the trash. Gabriel hates waste, so he struck up a deal with the local food kitchen. Now some homeless people and hard-on-their-luck families can have something sweet to eat with their breakfast – or lunch, or whenever it is that the kitchen will be handing it out.

With the treats out of the way, Castiel takes out the trays and the shelves from the display case and gives everything inside a good scrub down with a sponge and soapy water. He despises having a dirty café. If this is where their food is going to be displayed, then it damn well better be _pristine_. There is no excuse for a place of business to be _messy_.

The first batch of croissants comes out of the kitchen not more than a few minutes after Castiel puts the shelves back into the case. Balthazar smiles at him and it sets his teeth on edge. Any attempt Balthazar makes at being serene is just coming across as _evil_. He has to pass through the kitchen to get to the apartment and now he fears what will be waiting for him back there. But, there’s also a chance that they’re not planning anything. This could all be _psychological_. That would certainly be a new tactic.

When Balthazar comes to the front to relieve him, Castiel takes his time with cashing out his till. He doesn’t want to go in the back any sooner than he has to, but he absolutely has to do it as soon as possible because the sun is coming and he needs to go before he gets hit by a stray ray when someone opens the door. If that happens, there’ll be chaos and his life here would be at an end. They would have to sell the café immediately and move. Their names would have to change again and he’s rather attached to this one.

Whatever Balthazar and Gabriel are planning, it’s not worth that.

“I’ve got this covered, Cassie.” Balthazar gives him a bright smile as he ties a fresh apron on. “Go on and get yourself to bed. You’re probably tired.”

Castiel squints at him, trying to gauge whether or not he’s being sarcastic. Are there any hints in his words as to what’s waiting for him in the back? He can’t tell, but he’s still expecting anything from a trip wire to make him fall flat, or a banana cream pie to the face as soon as he walks through the door.

“Fine, I’m going.” He points at the stack of papers he left next to the till and the one tapped to the front of the register under the customer display. “Please point these out to customers and encourage them to take one with their order.”

“Will do, boss.” Balthazar even raises his hand in a mock salute. “Now go on and get before Gabriel gets on you for encroaching on _his_ café time.”

“Yes, yes. I’m going.” Even though his shift isn’t over for another twenty minutes, at least. He hasn’t actually been keeping an eye on the clock since he did the cleaning.

With a deep breath, he carefully pushes open the door and peeks into the kitchen first. Balthazar snickers behind him, but nothing immediately bad happens. Gabriel is very carefully piping chocolate cream into a freshly cooled batch of éclairs, his head down and his hair pinned back like how he only ever wears it in the kitchen. The tip of his tongue is poking out between his lips in concentration.

If Castiel is going to make it through the kitchen safely, now is that time. He ducks through the door as silently as he can and skips the safe entirely. He’ll just put the deposit in the lock box that they have upstairs in the desk. It’s where all the money ends up anyways. Gabriel will just take what’s in the safe up with him when he’s done his shift later this afternoon anyways, so it’ll still all be together.

He makes it halfway up the stairs before he physically can’t go up any more, stopping so suddenly that he pinwheels and has to catch the handrail. For a split second he thinks it’s magic, but then he realizes it’s his _feet_ that he can’t pick up. More specifically, his shoes. “Glue, Gabriel? _Really_?”

Laughter erupts both in the kitchen and at the door. Apparently Balthazar was peeking just to see it happen. Castiel glares at both of them before he slips his shoes off. “If that’s how you want to play it, alright then. And just to let you know, I’ll be going out tonight after sun down to cat posters up around town about the cat. There are some already on the street outside.”

Gabriel pauses with filling the éclairs. “I thought you wanted to _keep_ the damn thing? What did you go and make posters for?”

“I _do_ want to keep her, but I also want ot make sure that I’m not keeping her from a family that might be missing her.” Castiel checks the next few stairs to make sure that they’re glue free. They look good and he goes up them.

“What family wouldn’t already have posters up looking for her?”

That’s a very good point. “Are you advocating that she _doesn’t_ have a family?” He glances over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Gabriel. “In that case, I would get to keep her without having to go to all this extra work.”

Realization spreads across his face and he shakes his head. “Never mind. Just go to bed, Cassie.”

Despite having gotten caught in the glue prank, Castiel still feels victorious. And on top of that, he’s going to leave his shoes for Gabriel and Balthazar to pry from the stairs on their own. Feeling smug in his triumph, he continues up the stairs in his socks. That feeling quickly disappears when he reaches the second stair from the top and winds up losing both his socks. The laughter starts all over again and he rolls his eyes. Castiel is definitely going to have to get him back for this.

He heads into the apartment in his bare feet and the cat is waiting for him at his bedroom door. She’s meowing loudly and immediately starts rubbing against his ankles the moment he’s in the room. Now _this_ is the kind of greeting he always wants to come upstairs to.

“Good morning, little one.” Castiel scoops her into his arms again and gives her a good cuddle. “Did you have a good nap?”

She meows and butts her head against his cheek, pausing to sniff at his lips and nose. Ah, she must be hungry. Well, Castiel can handle that for her well enough. He keeps her in his arms as he putters around the kitchen, and she seems plenty happy with that. She watches from the crook of one arm while he prepares a meal for them both with his other hand. For him, Castiel makes a light snack of crackers and cheese. For her, he empties the rest of the tin of cat food they have in the fridge into a small bowl.

Thankfully, Gabriel left all the blinds down over the windows and he pulled thick curtains over them to keep out any sunlight that might shine through the slats. It’s nice that Castiel doesn’t have to worry about the sunlight in his own home while he gets ready to bed down for the day. He won’t be sleeping for another few hours or so, considering that he’s only been up since nine o’clock in the evening. Even though it would be easier to sleep, Castiel likes to stay awake for at _least_ twelve hours before he curls up to sleep. Sometimes he wakes up earlier and that’s enough for him, but on a _sleep_ day, he has no choice but to wait for the sun to go down before he can wake up.

The cat is practically squirming to get out of his arms when she realizes that her food is ready. Castiel carries her and both their meals to his bedroom and she springs to the bed, meowing loudly. She starts pacing back and forth along the length of the bed as Castiel puts his own food on the bedside table. She’s on the floor before her food is, shoving her face into the bowl the first chance she gets. Castiel watches her eat while he sits on the bed and eats his own snack.

After he’s done, and before he can change into his pajamas, there’s a knock at his door. Gabriel doesn’t wait for permission before he opens it. “Cassie, you have a visitor downstairs.”

Castiel pauses in the process of undoing his belt. “I have a _what_?” He’s never had a visitor before. No one has ever come to see _him_ specifically.

“A _visitor_.” Gabriel leans his hip against the door frame and his smile is _beyond_ delighted. “There is a _beau_ calling for _you_ downstairs.”

He has a feeling he knows who Gabriel means, but he doesn’t want to act like he does. “I can’t go downstairs. The sun –”

“The _sun_ isn’t a problem.” By now, Gabriel is all but dancing in delight. He’s practically wiggling in place while watching him. “Balthazar drew the blinds for you again. Now go down there and _visit_ with bumbling beau of a visitor.”

Damn. So, it really is Dean. What is he doing back so soon? Castiel is happy to have a returning customer, but he couldn’t have picked a worse time for it. With a sigh, he gets up and follows Gabriel back downstairs. They both skip over the steps with the glue, and Gabriel throws an amused smile back at Castiel as he does it. He’s still entirely too pleased with himself for a prank gone well. Castiel can’t let him get a big head about it. He’ll have to do retaliate soon.

When Castiel turns through the door, he finds Balthazar is in the process of serving Dean two cups of coffee and a chocolate milk. He’s also boxing up half the croissants they have in stock at the moment. The moment he sees Castiel, Dean lights up with a bright smile.

He leans forward over the counter and holds out a slip of paper. “I’m off shift in an hour, but I thought I’d bring you these before you’re done. It’s a list of the groomers in the area.”

Is it really only around seven o’clock? Castiel had thought it was later than that. It looks like Balthazar hasn’t even changed the signs over yet.

Castiel takes the paper and glances at the list. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to do this, Dean. I gave you the email address.”

A blush spreads quickly through Dean’s cheeks and he glances down at the coffees on the tray in front of him. His smile dims again. “I know, but my shift was boring at times so I figured I do a little research and got that done for you.”

Gabriel kicks Castiel in the back of the leg. Not hard enough to hurt, but it’s definitely a reprimand. He even clears his throat and gives Castiel an unhappy frown. The same expression is mirrored on Balthazar and it takes Castiel a moment to realize why. He didn’t intend to be rude, but it’s very possible that he might have come across as such. Again. Shoot.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel steps forward to tap the counter until Dean looks up at him again. “I appreciate the effort that you’ve gone to for me.” Even though he could have done an internet search himself – and he _did_. Regardless, Dean shouldn’t be made to feel like he wasted his time or that Castiel doesn’t care that he did this for him. Now he feels rather bad for making him feel that way.

Immediately, Dean brightens again and he straightens his shoulder. It’s so easy to make him smile and Castiel is fascinated by it. Surprisingly, he actually feels better himself with seeing Dean be happy again. He works hard and – oh, that’s right!

“I saw you drive out earlier. Was it a big emergency?” He tucks the paper away and takes the box of croissants from Balthazar. “Was it a false alarm?”

“Nah, not at all.” Dean shrugs and accepts the box as Castiel hands it to him. “That and my coffee run were the only interesting things that happened tonight. The old guy is gonna make it, so there’s no worries there.” He puts the box on top of the two coffees and the small carton of chocolate milk tucked between. “I still haven’t talked to my folks about which groomer is the best, but I’ll send that in an email. They start at the fire hall when my shift is done, so I’ll ask them then.”

Hold on, did he just hear that right? “I’m sorry, but did you just say that your whole family work at the fire hall?” It’s not that weird, considering how Castiel’s entire family owns a business with him. But is being a firefighter one of those professions where an entire family would be a part of it? How many different generations of Dean’s family have worked at that fire hall – or at any fire station?

“Everyone except for my little brother, Sammy.” Dean rocks on his feet but he’s still smiling. “He starts Monday at some café I’ve never heard of before, but it’s got a kooky kinda name. Totally fits him, though. He’s eighteen and still growing like a weed. I expect he’ll be a big ol’ Sasquatch any day now.”

Castiel almost laughs, because there it is again. Is this going to be a regular thing with Dean? “You’re doing that oversharing thing again.” The moment he points it out, Dean’s blush darkens and Castiel’s smile grows. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s rather endearing. You don’t often find people as open as you are in this day and age.”

Maybe, if he had a different life, Castiel might be as free about himself as Dean is. It’s hard to imagine having a life like that, but he’s fine with this one. Of course there are _several_ things about it that he would love to change. Having his parents back would be nice. And it would be ideal to not have to live with security spells and crystals and charms all over the place to warn him if Witches are nearby.

As much as he likes Montpelier, Castiel would probably change that he could be living in the town where he was born. He had friends there, before – well, before _everything_ happened. Okay, so, in hindsight he would likely end up changing literally everything about his life right now as long as it meant getting to have his parents back. Out of everything, he misses them the most.

Oh, now he’s gone and made himself sad.

Dean ducks his head as he picks up his purchase, the blush still staining his cheeks. “That’s – uh – that’s a damn shame, yeah. I should – I should probably get going now. I’ll – um – I’ll see you in a few days?”

Castiel nods and gestures over his shoulder at Gabriel. “I’ll make sure that he has a pie ready for you.”

That only makes Dean’s smile grow even brighter. “Thanks, Cas!” He gives a small wave at Balthazar and Gabriel before he heads out. Surprisingly enough, he manages to do it without bumping into one of the tables. Is it because the others are here?

When the door opens, the morning sun pours through. The light cuts across the floor and Castiel quickly ducks back into the kitchen before he can risk getting caught in it. Even if the sun doesn’t fully reach the back of the café during the day, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Gabriel blocks Castiel’s route to the stairs with his body, his hands on his hips and a curious light in his eyes. “Excuse me, dear baby bro, but what is this about a _pie_ that I hear?”

As if that’s not bad enough, Balthazar pushes his way into the conversation too. His wings are high and practically vibrating behind him. Oh, damn. Castiel not only forgot to tell Gabriel about trying out pie as one of their sale items, but he had been hoping _not_ to tell either of them that it’s because _Dean_ wanted it. They have both already come to some very odd conclusions about Dean’s patronage and this is just going to make them think even weirder thoughts now.

With a sigh, Castiel tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. He has the feeling that he’s not going to be allowed back up to the comfort of his bed any time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥

_ _

**_Friday – October 2_ ** **_ nd _ ** **_, 2015_ **

Castiel swivels from side to side on his stool, watching as Gabriel rolls out the dough that will become the crust of the pie. He does it with such ease that Castiel is almost jealous of it. If he had any interest in trying his hand at baking, he might be. Luckily, while Gabriel’s strength is with his baking, Castiel’s is with the more savoury aspect of cooking. He’s got several recipes filed away that taste exceptionally good. Sadly, the only ones who have ever tasted his cooking are in the room right now.

“I don’t remember telling you that you could stop cutting apples.” Gabriel doesn’t even look up while he carefully drapes the rolled out dough into a pie tin.

“Really? Because I clearly remember telling you that I _finished_ cutting the apples.” Castiel reaches over and pushes the bowl towards Gabriel. “I even mixed everything for you. It’s all ready for you pie and all you have to do is put it all together.” While he can’t bake, Castiel is more than capable of mixing together the ingredients that go into it. His problems lie mostly with dough and giving pastries the _perfect_ time in the oven.

Gabriel lifts his head and gives Castiel a flat, unimpressed look. It’s followed by a roll of the eyes as he shapes the crust into the pie tin and cuts off the excess. “Fine, fine. You did good. Are you happy now?”

“Very.” Castiel grins at him and starts wiggling on his stool again. It’s rather fun. “Remind me again just how long I should have it in the oven for?”

“Until it’s gone golden brown.”

“How long, Gabriel? I need to put it on a _timer_.” There is no conceivable way that he can leave it to something like that. Castiel _needs_ to have it timed to the second or he’ll end up burning it, or under cooking it, and that’s not acceptable. The pie needs to be _perfect_ for Dean to taste test tonight. Anything less than that and Dean might not like it, and if he doesn’t like it, then it’s not something that Castiel will be confident in serving to their customers.

With a loud sigh, Gabriel shakes his head. “Just leave it to Balthazar.” He drags a bag of oats over and starts sprinkling them over the pie crust. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Excellent. That’s a weight off my shoulders.” Castiel hadn’t been looking forward to trying to time it right so the pie would be done by the time Dean usually comes in – which is two o’clock in the morning. And he would have been mortified if he had messed it up and wound up having to tell Dean that there was no pie for him after he promised him there would be.

After another sigh, Gabriel starts spooning the contents of the bowl into the pie tin. “About this pie, Cassie. I’ve got a question I wanted to ask you about it.”

If this has anything to do with Dean, Castiel is going to throw the nearest object at him. He’s had to deal with far too much teasing after the last few days for his own good. Is it so wrong for him to want to keep their customers happy? It’s the only form of social interaction that he gets and, believe it or not, he wants this business to do well. They may have had a decent amount of money to themselves _before_ they started this venture, but a lot of their money has gone into it. The majority of their money came from the insurance payouts from both the death of their parents, so Castiel considers the café to be their legacy in some way.

He rubs a hand over his face and utters a silent prayer that this isn’t going to be another teasing session. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know if _you_ know what they say about guys.”

Castiel has to take a moment to try and process what he’s asking. “I – what? No, I don’t know what they say about guys.”

“Are you _sure_?” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows at him and he gets a very bad feeling from it.

“Yes, my dear crazy brother, I am sure. As a guy myself, I have absolutely no idea what they say about us.” He narrows his eyes slightly, preparing himself for the worst. “Am I supposed to know?”

After a few moments of silence, where they both stare at each other, Gabriel puts his spoon down with a sigh. “They _say_ , Cassie, that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

What does that even have to do with anything? “That’s incorrect. The best way to a man’s heart is directly through his rib cage.” Or there are plenty of magical options that one could take. It’s a black magic that would require more preparation, but it’s not even remotely as messy.

“ _Cassie_.” Gabriel groans and leans his head back. “They say that to ladies who learned how to bake and cook so they could catch themselves a _man_.”

He can see where this is going and Castiel is _not_ happy about it. “That’s a very sexist and outdated saying, then.”

This time Gabriel slaps his hand on the table. “For the love of God, Cassie, would you just –”

“Just _what_?” Castiel crosses his arms tightly and looks away. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

“I’ve raised you for the last thirteen years, Castiel.” Gabriel takes a deep breath and leans forward to rest both his hands on the worktop. “I know for a _fact_ that you are not this dumb. Now answer the freaking question before I lose my shit on you in this room full of various _sharp_ implements.”

No, that’s not going to happen. Castiel is very much done with this conversation. He looks back to Gabriel, ready for a staring contest. No matter how hard Gabriel tries, he has never beaten Castiel in one. He is the supreme champion, even if it is contributed to the fact that he’s a Creature. It’s not that he doesn’t _need_ to blink, it’s that he can go a little longer than most without having to do so. Or, at least, he can go longer than _Gabriel_ , and that’s all that really matters.

They haven’t even been staring at each other for a whole thirty seconds before Gabriel throws both his hands in the air and turns away sharply. “I swear to God, you’re doing this on _purpose_!”

“Annoying my big brother is _always_ on purpose.” Castiel shrugs and leans back on his stool. “But I assure you, I don’t get what point you’re trying to make about the stomach and heart thing.” Or, rather, he just wants nothing to do with it. Forcing ignorance where ignorance can be forced.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He sighs and rubs both his hands over face. “Fine. Okay. So, you promised this Dean guy a pie, right? And pie is apparently his favourite food?”

Damn. “You think I’m trying to hit on him using your baking skills.” There’s no question in there. It’s a fact that Castiel was trying so very hard to avoid entirely.

“So you _do_ have a brain!” Gabriel puts a hand over his heart and has the gall to look like he’s actually relieved about this. “I was getting worried there, Cassie.”

He shakes his head and rotates the stool so he’s facing away from Gabriel. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh, you _don’t_ have a brain, then?”

Castiel swallows back the urge to groan. “I was thinking of the _customers_. Dean brought the problem to light, but there are _plenty_ of people who like pie. If we get one of those pie tiers, we could sell slices of pie or whole pies, just like diners do.”

Gabriel sighs and hangs his head. He covers his face with his hands again and makes fake sobbing noises into them. Castiel glances at him with a frown. “Don’t do that. You’re going to get flour everywhere, and now you need to wash your hands before you can touch the food again.”

“Yes, I know how to be clean in a kitchen, thank you.” He huffs and lifts his head again to give Castiel a glare. “But that’s not what we’re talking about, Cassie. We’re talking about _you_ and how you’re apparently so out of touch with people that–”

Fine, fine. If this is what Gabriel wants, then he’ll get his damn answer. “Yes, Dean is attractive.”

That seems to catch him by surprise. Gabriel’s mouth drops open and he stares at Castiel long enough that he must break some kind of record for being as quiet as he has. It takes a little while before he blinks and shuts his mouth, only to open it again to speak. “What?”

“He’s hot.” Castiel shrugs and glances away again. “That’s what you wanted to hear, was it not?”

“Well, _yeah_.” Gabriel slowly starts to walk around the worktop, making his way towards Castiel. “But what I really want to hear is that you’re not going to stay hiding behind the counter or up in the apartment. I want to hear that you’re going to _do_ something about the hot fireman.”

Oh God no. He shakes his head sharply, but still refuses to look Gabriel in the eye. “No, I’m not going to do that.” Castiel brings a hand to the crystal around his neck again, squeezing it for comfort.

Gabriel stops his slow advance. His gaze drops to Castiel’s hand and his expression goes serious. “It’s because of what happened to mom, isn’t it?” When Castiel doesn’t answer, Gabriel knows the truth. “It’s been _thirteen_ years, Cassie.”

He gets to his feet and dusts flecks of apple peel from his pants.  “Time doesn’t change what happened, Gabriel.” And it certainly doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I’m not going to let history repeat itself. No one is going to get hurt because of me. Not like mom was because of dad.”

This conversation has reached the point where Castiel _really_ doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore. Which means that it’s a perfect time for him to withdraw upstairs. His shift starts in an hour and he wants to spend some time with the cat before then.

“I’m not asking you to _date_ the guy, Cassie!” Gabriel reaches out and catches Castiel by the wrist, keeping him from reaching the bottom step of the stairs. “But the least you could do is make a damn _friend_ for once in your life!” The upset in Gabriel’s voice catches Castiel off guard. It’s not nearly as frustrated as Castiel would have expected.

With a sigh, Gabriel drops his voice into a softer tone. “Cassie, we’ve been living in Montpelier for a _year_ and you haven’t made a single friend. I just – I don’t want you to feel _lonely_.”

Castiel doesn’t look back and he squeezes the crystal a little harder, it’s edges digging into his palm. “Remind me again how long it was before you made friends with Balthazar?” He was Gabriel’s first friend after they moved here in the fall of last year, and Balthazar didn’t join their team until the spring of this year. “It’s just taking me a little longer to adjust, okay?”

“How much longer do you need?” Gabriel lets his wrist drop, but he still has the topic firmly in his grasp. “You’re still living out of a suitcase, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head and turns to face Gabriel slightly, still not really looking at him. Castiel doesn’t want to see what kind of hopeful or hopeless expressions he might be wearing. “No, I’m not. I hang my clothes up after I wash them.”

“But you’re ready to run at a moment’s notice.” There’s a thread of accusation in his tone, and it piques Castiel’s irritation at the conversation. “You’re ready to drop all of this and run.”

“So are _you_.” He almost spits the words, because how dare Gabriel blame him for being ready to run to save his life? His preparedness is what _Gabriel_ taught him to do, just in case Witches or any other danger should present itself to them. And, most of all, he knows for a fact that Gabriel has a matching duffle bag in his bedroom closet with the same emergency supplies that Castiel has in his own.

“We have a _home_ here, Cassie.” Desperation is starting to creep into Gabriel’s voice. He wants to win this argument so badly, but it’s not going to happen. Nothing is going to be able to change Castiel’s mind on this. _Nothing_.

“We have a _business_ here, Gabriel, and I am not having this conversation again.”

Before Gabriel can respond, Castiel turns away and heads up the stairs quickly. He doesn’t want to run from this fight, but it’s exactly what he’s doing, whether he wants to or not. For now, he’s going to retire to his room and just – just _breathe_ for a while. He’s never going to forget what happened to their parents. His life is a daily reminder of that, no matter what he does.

The cat is waiting in his bedroom for him, sprawled out on the blanket like the enter bed was always meant for her. Gabriel took her to the groomer in the late afternoon and she has been _much_ more energetic ever since. She looks a little ridiculous, but Gabriel assured him that no domestic feline ever looks good with what the groomer called a ‘ _lion’s cut_ ’. But now she’s completely mat and tangle free and happy as can be.

As soon as Castiel walks into the bedroom, the cat gets to her feet and starts meowing loudly. She stops as soon as he sits down on the edge of the bed, replacing her meowing with purring. The cat crawls into his lap and butts her head against his stomach. Castiel gives her a few pets, from head to tail to before he flops back with a loud sigh. The cat mewls softly and walks up to sit on his chest. She rubs her face on his chin while he stares at the ceiling and reviews the argument he just had.

While they both have their valid points, Gabriel is definitely right about one thing. Castiel’s bedroom is exceptionally bare. Before they settled in Montpelier, they had bought a small camper truck and drove around the country for a few years. They went to Disney World, Disneyland, both Universal Studios; they went to Mount Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, and saw both oceans; they even visited the infamous Route 66 and every landmark possible within the country. They slept on the sides of the road and in campgrounds and did everything they wanted to do in the ten years prior – went everywhere that their parents wanted to take them before they died

With two years worth of road tripping, Castiel only bought a few trinkets along the way. There’s barely enough of them to fill up one of the shelves of the bookcase he has next to his bedroom door. The bookcase itself is rather short. It only has three shelves too it, the top one consists of his trinkets. The second is full of all the books he hasn’t read yet. The third has only a handful of books – his favourites – and a photo album.

Anything that Castiel reads, if it’s not an instant favourite, gets put downstairs in the café when he’s finished with it. He’s perfectly capable of leaving behind all the books that he hasn’t read, and he could part with the trinkets if he needed to. But there’s so few of them that he could easily swipe them from the shelf on his way out. Any of his so called _favourite_ books are ones that he can buy again elsewhere if he doesn’t have the time to grab them should they ever need to run. If there’s anything he absolutely won’t forget, it’s the photo album. It’s the only thing that he asked for from their old home before he and Gabriel went into hiding.

Castiel’s closet is mostly empty too. He keeps a minimal amount of clothing, and he’s not attached to any of it. His emergency bag has a handful of underwear and socks, a couple t-shirts, one hoodie, one pair of jeans and one pair of sweatpants. There’s a small toiletries bag in there too with a travel toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant.  Toiletries aside, that’s half his closet right there. Aside from the few clothes that he wears on his days off, everything else are considered to be his _work clothes_ – not including the few sweaters that he has. Those are interchangeable and just as easy to abandon.

And that is literally everything that Castiel owns. Except for the cat, but he doesn’t exactly _own_ her. Last night he went and put up the posters over as much of the town as he could reach between sun down and the beginning of his shift. They haven’t received a single response about them all day. To his knowledge, none of the customers have said anything either, but the posters he had printed were all taken within the first few days. So the word _has_ gotten out about the cat. And yet – what if he has to run in the next few days? In the next week or month? Is he going to leave the cat here for Balthazar or Anna or Tessa to deal with?

No, absolutely not. Castiel was the one to find that cat and _he_ will be the one responsible for her. Even if it means stealing her away with him, then he’ll do just that. Which means that his emergency bag needs to be revised.

The cat doesn’t like it too much when he moves her from his chest, and she follows after him with an annoyed meow. She purrs and curls around his ankles while he finds a Tupperware container in the kitchen and fills it with a few scoops of dry food. He uses a label to put the expiry date on it, and he makes a mental note of the date on the couple of cans of wet food that he takes too. Castiel finds room for it in his emergency bag, wedging everything in among the clothes. Now, if he has to run, the cat will have some food when he takes her with him.

If there’s one thing about Castiel that he prides himself on, it’s that he likes to be organized.  Before he can forget the expiry dates, he writes them on a sticky note and puts it on his calendar he has hanging above his bookcase. There are little notes and dates written every which way, and most of it has to do with the café. Of course, there are a few things about the cat on there now too. Like when she needs to go back to the vet for a check up. Luckily, she’s already been spayed – which makes it all the more likely that she _does_ have a family around here somewhere.

Once his preparations are completely, Castiel lies back down on the bed to cuddle with the cat a little more. “I’m sorry, little one, but we haven’t heard anything about your family yet.”

She honestly doesn’t seem to care. The cat hasn’t been restless or visibly distressed about being in a strange home. In fact, she’s adapted to life here rather quickly. She seems so comfortable with people that she _must_ have a family, as much as Castiel is loath to admit it. Despite how he wants to keep her for himself, he’s still going to go out Saturday night and put up more posters in the subdivisions. He doesn’t work tomorrow, so he can stay out as late as necessary to get it all done.

In the midst of being petted, the cat rolls onto her back and starts kicking at Castiel’s fingers. He smiles and starts tickling her belly – which is a tad weird to feel, now that it’s shaved. She makes that chirring sound again and slaps at his hand with her paws. Thankfully, she doesn’t use any claws and even the nips she gives his fingers are soft. Now that she’s been shaved, she is _far_ more playful and Castiel is rather enjoying this.

Even if he doesn’t have friends, and even though he won’t let himself take a lover, at least he has the cat for now. Because Gabriel was right about another thing – Castiel _is_ lonely.

_ _

**_Saturday – October 3_ ** **_ rd _ ** **_, 2015_ **

It might be considered wildly unprofessional, but Dean doesn’t give a shit. If he wants to sit on the chair upside down, then he’s damn well going to sit on a chair upside down. No one is going to stop him from putting his feet over the back of the chair and letting his head hang off the seat. It makes watching TV a bit difficult, but he doesn’t care about that either. It’s not like he’s actually _watching_ whatever show is on. That’s all of Jo’s convenience right now. In fact, his eyes aren’t even open.

Dean’s nap did nothing for him and he still feels fucking _exhausted_. Of course, that’s because it’s reached the time of night when he should go and get himself some coffee. But the desire to do that is almost nil right now. He’s just too – what’s the word? Oh yeah. He’s just too _disheartened_ to get up and go _The Graveyard Shift_ right now.

When he went to the café on Wednesday morning, just before he figured Cas’s shift was supposed to be finished, Cas didn’t really look all that happy to see him. Since then, Dean has basically spent the last few days convincing himself to stop with his stupid little crush. It’s obvious that Cas just isn’t into guys, and if he is, then he’s obviously not into _Dean_. At this point, he’s just making a fool of himself by flirting with him so much – for what shitty flirting that he’s been doing.

If Cas was into guys, he’d probably be way more receptive to Dean than this. Every time Charlie takes him to the gay bar in Burlington, every guy that hits on Dean keeps claiming that he’s just so _hot_ and _irresistible_. It’s like he’s like candy to gay guys, or something. It does wonders for Dean’s ego, but – well, Cas just isn’t reacting to Dean like he’s used to people reacting when he gets his flirt on. Granted, his flirting with guys is still fucking _terrible_. He can charm the pants off a lady, but put him in front of a hot guy and Dean is all thumbs with two left feet and a thick tongue.

All that just means that Dean has been spending the last hour convincing himself that flirting with Cas is absolutely pointless. His little crush is nothing more than lust because he thinks Cas is hot, and that’s that. There’s nothing more to it, no matter how much he tries to convince himself otherwise. And that’s all true, actually. Dean doesn’t know a damn thing about Cas, besides his name and that he has a brother. Oh, and that they own the café together.

That’s literally all that Dean knows about him. He doesn’t know Cas’s age, or where he came from, or even how long he’s lived in Montpelier. What are his favourite movies? His favourite TV shows? His favourite _books_? What’s his favourite fucking colour? Dean knows literally nothing about Cas, so it’s not like he’s actually _invested_ in the guy or anything. There’s no reason to be super disappointed if it turns out that Cas really isn’t gay, or bi, or whatever. If he’s not into Dean, then so what? He knows that’s what he supposed to be thinking, but it’s a little hard considering that he’s been spending the last week mooning over a hot barista.

Any further introspection on his lack of a love life is cut short by what feels like a bunch of paper hitting him in the face. When he opens his eyes, it’s to Jo kneeling in front of him and giving him the meanest upside down glare he’s ever seen.

They stare at each other for a long time before Jo sighs loudly. “Stop sitting around and go get me my damn coffee.”

“Why don’t _you_ go get it?” Dean closes his eyes again. He has no intention of going to the café tonight, because Cas probably doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“Because I don’t have the hots for the coffee guy like you do.” She huffs and pokes Dean on the nose.

He snorts and shakes his head. “You would if you met him.” It’s hard to believe that Jo – an appreciator of attractive guys pretty much _all_ the time, wouldn’t find Cas hot too.

“I have.” Jo sighs and puts her hands under his head, lifting it in an attempt to get him to sit up. “And he’s cute, I’ll give you that. But you got first dibs, remember?” She sounds utterly sarcastic and Dean wants to put her in a headlock for it.

Someone clears their throat on the other side of the room, reminding Dean that Nick is – once again – not sleeping when he’s supposed to be. When Dean opens his eyes, it’s to find Jo rolling hers and throwing a glare off to the side. “Shut up, Nick.”

“Excuse me, but _my_ feelings are perfectly valid _too_.” He huffs and Dean can just imagine how he’s throwing wounded looks at Jo that are completely and utterly _fake_.

It annoys the hell out of him. “If your feelings are so _valid_ , then why don’t _you_ go ask Cas out, huh?”

Nick shows up in Dean’s field of vision with a smile verging on being downright demonic. “Are you revoking your dibs, Dean?” He shoos Jo out of the way and kneels to picks up all the money on the floor, because apparently she really _did_ throw a handful of bills in his face. “Well, then. Please allow me to make the first move.”

Dean groans and flaps a hands at Nick when he kisses him on the forehead. “You’re going to regret it when he says _yes_.”

As if. “Yeah, right.” Dean shakes his head and starts to sit up, swinging his legs off to the side so he can get upright quicker. “He’s not going to go for you.”

“Just you wait and see, freckles.” Nick straightens up and snaps his suspenders. “There’s not a man or woman alive who can resist this.”

Jo shares a look with Dean before they both break down laughing. Nick leaves in a huff and it takes them both a few minutes to calm down. Oh, that was good. That was a laugh that Dean needed. It doesn’t really stop him from feeling like shit about this whole Cas thing though. In fact, he’s kinda really hating himself for saying that Nick could go make a move on Cas first. That was dumb. He should’ve known better. Now he’s totally lost all chances, hasn’t he?

While they wait for Nick to come back, Dean and Jo relocate themselves to the table where they can sit comfortably while waiting for their coffee. It also makes for a safe place to play _Words With Friends_ on their phones. With a table between them, Dean stands a better chance of escaping the game without bruising. Jo really doesn’t like it when he kicks her ass at it every single time they play a game together.

After Dean scores a whopping forty-three points with one word, Jo puts her phone down with a groan. “Y’know, for someone who’s beating the hell out of me at this game, you’re not smiling as much as you should be.”

Dean hums and puts his phone down too. “Who can smile when Nick is getting his claws into Cas first?”

“Excuse me?” She raises an eyebrow just before picking up her phone again. She must have figured out a word to play, because she looks away from him to start putting tiles on the board.

Does she want to play or does she want an answer? Dean isn’t sure until she looks back up at him again. He sighs and props his chin up on his hand. “Nick’s the problem. He’s going to ask Cas out first. What part of that are you not understanding?”

Jo’s frown gets deeper. “The part where you think that matters.”

Why did he think it would be a good idea to talk to her about this? Jo’s love life is just as empty as his own. He makes a face at her. “I called _dibs_.”

“Big whoop. You also just told him that you should go ask Cas out.” She puts her phone down again and Dean’s beeps with the notice of a new word played.

“And I was a fucking idiot for revoking it.” He grumbles and looks down to see what word she played. “But it’s not like Cas is picking up on what I’m putting down. Maybe _Nick_ is more his type after all.”

After a beat of silence, Jo takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. She does that a few times before crossing both her arms on the table. “Dean, sweetie, you’re being a _dumbass_.”

Hey now, that’s just flat uncalled for. “Don’t kick a man when he’s down, Jo.”

With a sigh, she gets to her feet and comes around to his side of the table. Jo sits down next to him and puts a hand over his. “Listen, Dean. I’m going to give you some of the most important advice you’re ever going to get.”

He raises an eyebrow and she smiles at him. “You listening? Good, because you need to understand this. Cas is _not_ a piece of popcorn for you and Nick to squabble over like a couple of hungry seagulls. He’s a _person_ and he can make his own choices. If he likes Nick, then you’ve dodged a bullet because he’s obviously got terrible taste. If he _doesn’t_ like Nick, then awesome, because you still have a shot if you’ll get off your ass and actually ask him out. If he doesn’t like you, then he’s got _really_ bad tastes because you’re amazing and we all know it.”

Jo pats him on the hand and gives Dean a bright smile. “So, you need to stop acting like it’s the end of the world just because Nick is going to ask him out first, okay?”

“I know that.” Dean makes a face at her, but it falls into a smile. “Thanks, Jo.”

She puffs up with pride. “You’re welcome. Now, just remember to always listen to me and everything will turn out okay.” With a laugh, she winks at him before moving back to her seat.

Welp, Dean was a bigger idiot than he thought he was. He knows how to treat a lady right with the respect and dignity that she deserves because his parents taught him well. But, how in the hell did he forget that all of that still applies to _guys_. Maybe his brains got a little scrambled because this is the first time he’s crushed on a guy? Or – yeah, Dean’s going to go with that. He got a little confused but Jo sorted him all out.

Of _course_ Cas can make his own choices. It’s not like he’s going to go out with Nick just because he got to ask him out first. Actually, if Dean stops to think about this, it’s a good thing that Nick is asking him first. This way, Dean can gauge his own chances with Cas from the results of this attempt. It’s an equally awesome and terrifying thought. Because what if Cas shoots Nick down because he already has someone? If that happens, then Dean really doesn’t lose anything here. In fact, there’s nothing stopping him from just _befriending_ Cas, right?

If Dean can just get over himself, he can still go back to _The Graveyard Shift_ for coffee every night. He goes for the _coffee_ and the service, not for the chance to flirt with Cas. Otherwise, he wouldn’t consider going there on the shifts when Cas isn’t working. Even if he’s not going to flirt, they can still be friendly with each other, right? And, who knows, maybe that means they’ll actually end up being friends who hang out together outside of their jobs?

That’s always a possibility. It’s actually a pretty good possibility. On that first day when he met Cas, it might have been lust at first sight for him. Things are a little different now. Over the course of a week, Dean now actually wants to _know_ things about Cas. He’s like an enigma wrapped inside of a mystery wrapped inside of an adorable sweater – or sometimes a slimming and pretty sexy waist coat. Either way, Dean is going to need to stop thinking along those lines where Cas is concerned. For now, at least.

It’s a good fifteen minutes later when Nick returns, after Jo has given up on the game because she’s _hundreds_ of points behind. He walks back in with a sour look and one cup of coffee in his hand.

Dean feels supremely victorious and he leans back in his chair with a smile. “Let me guess.”

Nick scowls at him. “Get off your high horse, Winchester. He said he’s not interested in going out with _anyone_ right now. He’s focusing on his _business_.”

He snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes, because this is exactly what Nick deserves. “Well _duh_. They opened, like, two weeks ago. As if he has time for people.”

“Guys, you’re ignoring what important here.” Jo slaps her hands down on the table and stands up.

They both look at her, and Dean raises an eyebrow. “What?”

She turns a truly _murderous_ look on Nick. “Where the hell is my damn _coffee_?”

With a sniff, he throws down the rest of the money on the table. “I never said I was getting _yours_.” He stalks past her, sipping at his coffee. “Relax, pintsize. I left it for Dean to get.”

Hold on, what? Dean sits up straight and narrows his eyes at him. “Why do I have to go?”

“Because our dear barista was very worried that you weren’t the one going out to get the coffee.” Nick shrugs and slumps into the chair Dean was occupying a while ago. “Especially since he went and prepared a fresh baked pie for you.”

Mother of God. How in the _hell_ did Dean forget about the _pie_? He’s a fucking _idiot_.

He jumps up and grabs the money from the table. Dean turns on his heel and sprints for the pole, only to skid to a stop and return for his cell phone. He’ll skip putting on his coat for tonight. Cas has a pie and they’re both waiting for him. There’s no time for him to stop and put anything else on right now. In fact, he runs the whole way to the café and only stops to catch his breath one building over. It won’t do to walk in breathing like he’s been smoking a pack a day since he was ten years old.

Once he’s composed himself, Dean walks up to the café only to come to a stop again. How long has there been this sign in the window? A poster about a _Found Cat_. Oh, this must be what Cas needed the groomer information for. He glances over the information, mentally checking it against everything and everyone that he knows. As far as he can remember, he doesn’t know anyone who might be missing a cat. In fact, he doesn’t really know anyone with a pet cat to start with. Especially since he’s allergic to cats and all.

Oh well, he’ll ask mom about it and if she doesn’t know then no one does. She knows everyone and everything that’s going on in this town, more or less. If Cas has a copy of the poster inside, he’ll take one for his mom. If not, he’ll get a picture of the poster on his way back to the station.

When he opens the door, Dean has to stop and take a deep breath. Holy _shit_ the place smells good. The smell of fresh baked apple pie fills the air and his mouth starts watering instantly. It’s a testament to how much he was torn up by Cas’s reaction to him Wednesday morning that he actually _forgot_ about pie. Because this – oh God, this is heaven right here. But then Dean sees the cat on the counter and heaven drops a few levels in perfection.

Okay, maybe the cat isn’t so bad, because Cas is sitting at the counter right next to it. He’s hunched over a pile of colour square papers and there are five folded cranes resting at his elbow. Dean’s heart does a funny little jig at the frown of concentration Cas has going. The tip of his tongue is poking out between his lips while he focuses on folding one of the bright squares of paper. It’s almost ridiculous how cute he looks – and the cat isn’t half bad itself.

This is the first time Dean’s ever seen a cat in person sporting that kind of shave. It’s hilarious, but it’s cute as hell that it’s knocking a crumpled receipt paper back and forth. Cas must be using that to distract the cat from his cranes. Even if he’s allergic to cats, Dean can still appreciate their cuteness. The combination of Cas – this one totally suited for fall – and a cat being cute makes Dean stagger slightly. There’s a little pain in his chest because this is unfair.

He shakes himself out and slaps a smile on his face just as Cas looks up at him. Oh no, oh God. Cas smiles the moment he looks up and it makes Dean go a little weak in the knees. Totally unfair. He literally _just_ made up his mind to stop flirting with Cas, and now this had to happen? Jesus Christ, it’s completely unfair. How is he supposed to handle _that_?

Dean centers himself again and crosses over to the counter. “So – uh – I heard you have a pie for me?”

“I do.” Cas tilts his head in a nod. He slides the origami he was working on and all his other papers off to one side of the counter, away from the cat. “I’m surprised that you weren’t the first one over tonight, given how excited you were about it the other night.”

Shit. With a cough, Dean rubs at the back of his head and shrugs. “I – well, Nick beat me to the punch because he just _had_ to see you.”

Right away, Cas’s nose crinkles slightly. “Ah, yes. I really wasn’t expecting that, to be honest.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Gabriel warned me that people might come onto me eventually, but I wasn’t at all prepared for it to happen this soon after we opened.”

Cas’s reaction is making Dean feel _really_ good about himself right now. He laughs and waves a hand like he’s trying to make Cas forget about it. “If it’s any consolation, Nick asked the same of me on the first day that I started at the station. I have the feeling that he’s got a _type_.”

With a tilt of his head, Cas also raises an eyebrow at him. “A type?” He reaches over and starts petting the cat when she starts showing more interest in his origami than in her paper ball.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Nick’s type is younger than him and _hot_.” Dean laughs and then almost chokes on it because oh shit. He just called Cas hot. Maybe Cas won’t notice. No, no, he definitely noticed.

Colour creeps into Cas’s cheeks and he looks down at the cat. “Oh.”

“Sorry.” He blurts the apology before realizing what he’s doing. “I mean – well – you _are_ – I –” Goddammit! Could he just keep his foot out of his mouth for _one_ conversation with Cas? And what did he literally _just_ tell himself about how he would interact with Cas from now on? This is the exact opposite of that!

“No, no. It’s fine.” Cas clears his throat and glances up a Dean. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.” He looks away almost immediately towards the closed door to the kitchen.

Dean clears his throat again and shuffles his feet slightly. “D-do you mind if I ask – like – um, why you turned him down? I mean, guys aren’t your type, I’m guessing, right?”

Slowly, Cas turns to look at him again. He stares Dean down in the kind of way that sends a chill down Dean’s spine. Can he tell just by looking at him why Dean is asking that? Because it’s really just out of curiosity that he’s doing it. Totally. IT’s not because he might want to ask Cas out for himself one day in the future, maybe.

After a moment, Cas tilts his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say that. Gender is not an issue for me.” He shrugs and starts keeping his hands busy with organizing his origami paper. “I turned Nick down because I’m not looking for a relationship right now and – I don’t have any particular interest in going out with someone I don’t know anything about. For instance, I don’t even know what kind of Creature he is.”

Yeah, Dean can understand that. If Bobby hadn’t told him, it would’ve taken him a while to figure out what Nick was. Granted, there are only so many creatures out there that have forked tongues, red scales, and happen to be fireproof. It probably wouldn’t have taken him _that_ long to get it. At first Dean almost thought he was another Phoenix, like Charlie, but her spots aren’t actual _scales_. And, as far as Dean knows, Nick isn’t able to control fire like she can.

“He’s a Salamander.” It might not be appropriate to outright ask someone to their face what kind of Creature they are, but there’s nothing against telling someone else about it. Not unless you’ve been specifically told not to. If you break a promise like that, then you’re just an asshole and deserve all the negative karma life has to throw at you.

Understanding fills Cas’s face and he nods, as if Dean helped him solve some kind of great mystery. “That makes quite a bit of sense, actually.” He smiles and Dean smiles back on reflex. “Thank you. That would have ended up being one of those questions that I couldn’t answer and it would have bothered me for quite a while.”

Dean feels all warm and fuzzy inside just because he’s on the end of that smile. “Y-yeah, no problem. Glad I could help.”

“Would you like to try the pie now?”

Thank God for a topic change. If Dean had to try and stumble his way through this conversation any longer, he might end up swallowing his own tongue and dying just to escape the nightmare he was digging himself into. He starts digging in his pockets for his wallet, set on buying the whole damn pie. “Oh, yeah, sure! How much do I owe you for it?”

Cas shakes his head and smiles. “Consider yourself a beta tester. This one will be on us tonight and, if you like it, I’ll get Gabriel to add it to the menu permanently. I like the idea that it might draw more customers to eating here.”

Any thought Dean had of not falling harder for Cas goes right out the window because this is just impossible. Cas is giving him _free pie_. That’s – like – that’s basically asking like Cas is asking for his hand in marriage, as far as Dean’s concerned. There’s just no getting around this right now. He’ll have to start his campaign to stop his crushing _after_ tonight.

With another pat to the cat’s head, Cas leans down to talk to it. “Stay here.”

The cat pushes into his hand and looks up at him with big baby blues that give Cas’s eyes a run for their money. Dean’s nose starts to tingle just looking at the cat, but it’s the first time in his life that he hasn’t sneezed almost immediately upon entering the same room as a cat. Maybe it’s one of those hypoallergenic kinds? There are cats like that, aren’t there? Maybe? He’s honestly not sure.

Cas takes a step away from the counter and the cat automatically takes a step after him. He gives Dean a helpless look, rolls his eyes, and reaches over to flick the paper ball off the counter. The cat’s head whips around and its tail sticks straight up, the tip of it twitching. In a heartbeat, it throws itself from the counter to start swatting the ball through the legs of the tables and chairs. Cas watches her for a moment and he gets this soft little smile on his face that makes Dean feel lightheaded. It’s the first genuine and actually _happy_ smile that Dean’s ever seen him have.

He’s left floored while Cas heads off to the kitchen. By the time he comes back with the pie, two plates, two forks, and a serving spade, Dean more or less has some control over himself. The cat is kinda hypnotic as it runs back and forth through the tables, so it’s easier than expected to get his stupid heart to calm the heck down.

“Would you like to sit down?” Cas tilts his head to gesture toward the handful of tables scattered around the floor.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean drops into a chair at the closest table – which just so happens to be the one that he keeps walking into.

As soon as he’s seated, Cas cuts out and serves two slices of pie. One to Dean, and one to himself. It’s like Cas has been reading his dream journal or something, because this is pretty much Dean’s ideal first date. Nothing is better than pie with someone you like. Granted, he hasn’t actually fantasized about dating Cas. He hasn’t really imagined _anything_ with Cas. Dean just thinks he’s cute, and he’s been a lot of fun to talk to. Totally a highlight of every night shift with the station.

“I hope you like it.” Cas hands Dean a fork and gives him an encouraging look.

“Well, it definitely smells awesome.” Dean gives an exaggerated sniff, because it really does. It smells just as good as when mom makes it.

When he takes the first bite, he can’t help groaning quietly. The pie ups his opinion of this place right back up to heaven. It’s _wonderful_. Delicious. Flaky perfection. One bite and he is fucking _sold_. He leans over the plate and starts eating with gusto. “This is _awesome_.”

Cas is a lot more refined with his first bite, but he smiles and nods in agreement. “It does taste rather good. Gabriel will be happy to hear that.”

“You should definitely start selling it.” Dean swallows a bite and has to resist the urge to lick the fork clean. “I would buy a whole pie, like, every time I’m on shift.”

“I’ll have to use that in my argument with Gabriel.” He gives a smile that crinkles his nose a little and Dean almost chokes on his next bite.

In fact, he actually does, but covers it well by pretending he’s surprised by the cat as it rubs up against his ankles. It really does make him jump in his seat a bit, and he leans over to look down as the cat makes its way to rub up against Cas’s legs. ‘Is it sanitary to have a cat out and about in the store?”

“Not usually, but Gabriel and I cast a spell to keep her fur and dander secluded to the apartment.” Cas shrugs and pushes his chair back just enough to give the cat space to jump up into his lap. “She makes less of a mess in here than most of our patrons do.”

Oh, well. Okay then. “That would explain why I’m not sneezing.” He gestures at the cat with his fork before taking the last bite of his pie piece.

Cas looks up from the cat in surprise, mouth open. “O- _oh_. You’re allergic?”

Dean shrugs and gives him a half smile. “Yeah, but it’s nothing big for me. It’s not like I need an epipen or go into some kind of shock when I’m around cats. I just sneeze a lot.”

“I – I didn’t even consider the allergens of our patrons when I decided to start bringing her downstairs.” Cas shoulders slump and he puts a hand on the cat’s back. “I suppose I should actually keep her upstairs, spell or not. We don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable because she’s down here.”

Holy shit, that just is not _fair_. Cas looks so disappointed with that idea that Dean scrambles to think of something to make him smile again. Clearly the cat makes him happy, so – “Hey, don’t worry about it. If anyone ever complains about her, just tell them about the spell. Allergies aren’t that big a deal if there’s no dander in the air and as long as they don’t touch her. You don’t let her up on the tables, do you?”

“Of course not.” Cas shakes his head, but he’s looking more relaxed again. That sad look is gone and he pets the cat with a smile.

“So, hey.” Dean clears his throat, hoping to change the subject to make sure that sadness is completely gone. “I didn’t know you could do magic. Have you been – uh – practicing it for long?”

This is actually some pretty exciting news. Dean doesn’t really know anyone who can do actual _spells_. Charlie doesn’t count because all she can do is control fire. Nick only has his fireproof-ness, and Benny’s magic is limited to a Vampire’s ability to kinda _charm_ their victims if they need to. As far as Dean knows, he’s never actually used it. Benny’s a gentleman like that.

“Since I was thirteen.” Cas shrugs and starts picking at his pie again. He does glance up at Dean with an amused little quirk to his lips. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. Gabriel and I are legally required to hang copies of our licenses in our place of business, same as our licenses for owning and operating a café. We’re also legally required to carry a copy on our person, like a driver’s license.”

Dean twists around to look at the wall behind the counter. There are a bunch of important looking documents in frames off to one side of the shelving and menu board. Two of them look way fancier than the others, and they’re written in a kind of mystical-like font. That’s probably the magic license. Magic organizations always love playing up the whole magical thing.

“Huh, learn something new every day.” He sits back and eyes the rest of the pin still sitting in the tin.

“You didn’t know about the licenses?” Cas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Uh, no.” Dean ducks his head in embarrassment. “I mean, there were a couple of kids that I used to go to school with who knew some spells, or they had parents who did. But this isn’t a very magical area. We’ve got a healthy population of Creatures, but that’s about it.”

With the way Cas nods, Dean kinda believes that Cas already knew that. He just smiles and nods and eats another bite of the pie. After another bite, Cas gestures down at the cat. “You wouldn’t happen to know if anyone lost a cat, would you?”

“Oh, right, the posters! I was going to ask for a copy to give to my mom. She might know.” He shrugs. It’s a long shot, but it can’t hurt any.

“If it’s of any help to you, I found her on Monday evening at the corner of Elm and School Street.”

Hold the fuck up. _What_? If he had been eating right now, Dean absolutely would have choked on the pie. “Dude, did you stop and feed her there? I mean, were you, like, wearing a trench coat or something like that?”

Confusion fills Cas’s face. “I – Yes?”

Hah! No way! Dean leans back in his chair with a laugh. “I totally drove by while you were doing that. I had no idea that was you! Nice choice of coat, by the way.”

Cas just sighs and rolls his eyes. “Gabriel hate sit. He says I look like a flasher.”

Yeah, Dean can definitely see why Cas’s big bro would think that. If he was in Gabe’s shoes and it was Sam wearing that coat, he’d have the same opinion. “Well, not many people wear them around here. I didn’t even know you could buy one in town.”

“I bought it well before we moved here.” He shrugs and carefully finishes off the last bite of his pie. “I like it because it has pockets for everything and it keeps me warm during the cooler months. I rather miss it when it’s too hot to wear, or when it’s too cold and I need to start using my winter coat.”

That is way too amusing, and that pie was way too good. His laugh gets cut short as Cas reaches over to put another slice of pie on his plate. “By all means, Dean, eat up. I’ll also box up the leftovers for you to take with you when you go.”

Dear God, it’s like Cas is _trying_ to make him fall in love. How dare he try and fill Dean up on pie? This is an atrocity. This is – this is cruelty against man; against _Dean_. There’s no way he can combat something like this. Cas must know that he’s physically incapable of refusing another slice of pie. It’s just not in Dean’s genes. Which means that he’s going to be sticking around for a little while longer – and _that_ means that Cas is more than okay with Dean being here. He’s not in any rush to kick Dean out the door like most people are with customers that they _don’t_ like.

When Cas sits back again, the cat meows loudly. He smiles down at her and drags his fingers through the syrup left on his plate. Her ears flick forward in interest and she starts licking at his fingers the moment they’re close enough for her to do so. Jesus, Dean can hear the goddamn purr from here. For someone who just found a cat earlier in the week – a cat he’s apparently not trying to keep – Cas sure is close with the little thing.

He eats his pie in silence and watches as Cas repeats the process a few times over. Cas must notice, because he ends up making a comment about it without even looking up. “I’m just waiting for no one to claim her so she can officially be mine.”

“Aw, what a lucky cat.”

That gets Cas to raise his head and look at him. It’s not much of a head lift, but he’s definitely watching Dean over the edge of his glasses. It takes all of two seconds of that look for Dean to realize how what he just said could be taken. As soon as it clicks, he can start to feel the blush burning in his cheeks. The best way to cover that up is with some more pie, and he starts shoveling that into his mouth. But Cas is still looking at him when Dean is done and he swallows the last bite around a lump in his throat.

“I just – I mean, y’know, she’s lucky because she was found by someone as nice as you?” He makes a flippant gesture with his fork and tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. “Someone like you, who’s willing to keep her and all that shit.”

Cas doesn’t actually say anything response. All he does is hum and go back to petting the cat. Fuck. Did he realize that Dean might be just a little bit – the _tiniest_ , mildest bit of jealous over the cat? It’s not even really something he’s noticing either. It’s just, sorta? C’mon, who wouldn’t be? That cat looks comfortable as shit sitting on Cas’s lap and it’s getting all sorts of love and affection right now. Who _wouldn’t_ want that?

Welp, time for another strategic topic change before he says or does anything else that’s stupidly foolish. Maybe he can get away with sticking around for a little longer before he actually really has to get his ass back to the station. Luckily, the perfect topic change is just behind him.

“So, what are you making?” Dean jerks a thumb over his shoulder to gesture at the origami.

It takes Cas a second to figure out what he means. “Oh, I was making more cranes for the ceiling.”

Oh, so Cas made all those cranes? That’s pretty impressive! Dean twists in his seat to take a look at them again. Surprisingly – or maybe not at all – there are _definitely_ even more cranes hanging from the ceiling than there were before. Yeah, that makes sense given the number of cranes on the counter right now. Not to mention the spool of thread with a needle sticking out of it and the box of tacks also sitting on the counter next to all the papers.

“Damn, Cas. That’s freaking sweet.” Dean flashes him with a bright smile. It really is pretty cool. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone who’s done origami before. Not outside of those little boxes or folded notes that kids used to make back in school.

His little compliment must please Cas in some way, because another little blush fills his face. He pushes away from the table even further so he can put the cat on the ground. Dean turns in his seat to watch as Cas gets the papers and his incomplete crane from earlier. He sits back down at the table and finishes folding it right here in front of Dean.

When he’s done, Cas sits back with a triumphant grin and pushes his glasses back up his nose. He holds the crane out to Dean with a look that’s practically _pride_. “There’s a legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you can make a wish. So, I started making these during my first shift on the night that we opened. I make ten a night and then put them on the ceiling as decoration.”

“That’s really cool, Cas.” Dean takes the crane very carefully, treating it like it’s made of glass. “I think I remember reading a book about that in school.”

“Likely _Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes_. That’s the book that inspired me to do it myself.” He takes it back and puts it aside to start folding another origami paper. “I looked it up online to get a better idea of it. Traditionally, you’re supposed to put forty cranes on one string, but I wanted to hang them like this so they wouldn’t be in the way. It’s said that having them hang in your home brings powerful luck to your residence.”

Holy shit, Dean is so fucking curious now. What’s Cas’s wish going to be? “This is pretty sweet. How long do you think it’s going to take you to fold a thousand of them?”

“One hundred business days.” Cas rattles the number off as if he’s done all the calculations already. “Since I only do them at work, and I do ten per shift. That’s fifty cranes a week.” He gestures at the one he’s working on right now. “This one is number ninety-seven.”

“This is seriously awesome, Cas.” Dean is practically wiggling in his seat now. He leans forward, completely forgetting about the pie for now. “What’s your wish going to be?”

Cas smiles at him and shakes his head. “That’s a secret.”

Oh, c’mon. It’s not a freaking birthday wish. Or, maybe it is? He doesn’t know the nature of wishes from all the other traditions in the world. “Fine, fine.” Dean sighs but he still smiles at him. “I hope your wish comes true, Cas.”

“Me too.” He ducks his head and goes back to folding.

It’s actually really cool to watch someone turn a square of paper into something recognizable. “Is there anything else that you fold, or just this?”

“I designed my own version of a dragon, actually.” Cas puffs up with pride and looks up at Dean with a smile. “I do origami as a stress relief, or to help pass the time. When I started folding dragons on shift, I decided to save them for the shop.” For the first time that Dean’s ever heard, _excitement_ actually starts to slip into Cas’s voice. “I’ve taken to tying them onto the mugs of people who dine in. They can keep it for themselves, or they leave it with me.”

Cas turns and points at the bookshelf beside the stairs. “You can see some of the dragons they’ve left for me. I reuse them as decoration once the customer has left.”

“Aw, geez. Those customers are so lucky.” Dean can’t help it, but he totally starts pouting. “I want a dragon of my own. _I_ would keep it.”

“You’re getting a pie for free and you’re complaining that you’re not getting a paper dragon?” He sounds way too amused for his own good and that just makes Dean’s pout double in intensity. Cas huffs a little laugh. “As soon as I’m done this crane, I’ll pack your pie for you and get your coffees.”

And that’s a great big _get the heck out_ if Dean ever heard one. Was he getting to comfortable with the conversation? In his experience, that’s how friends are made. Maybe Cas sees that as something really weird? Dean _is_ his customer, after all. For all he knows, Cas could have some kind of personal policy where he won’t let himself fraternize with customers. In which case, that makes this whole thing pretty damn confusing.

“There we go.” Cas puts the finished crane next to the other one. “Now, black drip with three shots of espresso, is it?”

“It’s – uh – _two_ shots, actually. But you were close.” Which absolutely fucking floors him because it’s been what, four times? Five? How many times has Dean come in and ordered this one coffee? It’s sure as hell not enough time for Cas to remember his goddamn order.

“Oh, darn.” Cas frowns slightly as he gets to his feet, sending the cat scattering from where she was apparently sitting over his feet. “Are you getting anyone else a coffee tonight?”

Is he? Shit! “Oh God, Jo is going to kill me!” Dean jumps to his feet and the cat takes off skittering to hide behind the counter. “She wanted her coffee _so bad_ and Nick didn’t get it for her. And now I’ve just been sitting here eating pie and – oh shit, I’m a dead man.”

“We can’t have that, can we?” Cas shakes his head and follows the cat behind the counter, immediately getting started on the coffees. “What does she like?”

Dean lists Jo’s order from memory while he gathers up all the plates and utensils on the table. He brings all of them and the pie over to the counter, going back only to retrieve Cas’s origami stuff. By the time he’s done, the table looks like they never ate there. Cas has the coffees and the pie boxed by the then because he’s quick and efficient and basically the perfect barista ever. The only thing Dean doesn’t expect is that there’s a green dragon tied to one of the to-go cups.

Cas gestures at it with a smug little smile. “There. Satisfied?”

It is _not fair_ how easy it is for Cas to make Dean light up like he’s a goddamn Christmas tree. “This is officially the best damn café I’ve ever been to!”

That makes Cas’s smile grow even bigger. “If you really believe so, then please say that on in a Yelp review. We would greatly appreciate that.”

“Of course!” Dean makes a cross over his heart before he hands over the cash for the coffee. “I’ll leave the best damn review you’ve ever seen.”

There’s a scuffle off to the side and suddenly the cat is up on the counter too, meowing loudly. Dean gets the feeling that she doesn’t want to be ignored. He can’t remember the last time he touched a cat, but there’s a first time for everything. The cat shrinks back slightly when he reaches over to pet her on the head, but after a few sniffs of his fingers, she’s pushing into his hand just like she was doing for Cas. Okay, so, it turns out that cats aren’t so bad when they’re not making him sneeze.

“I gotta get going before Jo calls me and promises to chop off vital parts of me.” Dean laughs and tilts his head towards the door. “I’ll catch ya next time?”

“Most likely.” He nods, but shrugs in the same motion. “I don’t work again until Monday.”

And there’s the confirmation that Dean needs to know that Cas doesn’t work weekends. Now he feels like a massive stalker just for having that little bit of information. Time to get the hell out before he loses it and starts tripping over his feet or his words again.

“Sounds great. See ya later!”

For the first time in over a week, Dean manages to make it out of the café without bumping into anything. And no stuttering! Fuck yes, that’s some goddamn progress right there.

Jo is on him the moment he walks through the doors. She practically tries to climb him to get at the coffee, and she doesn’t even question why he has a dragon and she doesn’t. Her entire focus is on the coffee, and then it’s on the pie. As loathe as he is to do it, Dean gives up the last of the pie to her and Nick to keep them off his back long enough for him to use the computer without any incident.

The first thing Dean does after ol’ reliable boots up is leave the Yelp review that he promised he’d give Cas. Even though he said he wasn’t going to flirt with Cas anymore – that he was going to give up and focus on nothing but friendship, he feels fucking _awesome_ right now. They had an awesome conversation tonight and it’s left Dean feeling all warm and tingly inside. His spirits have _definitely_ picked up from twenty minutes ago.

Once the review is made, Dean fiddle with his new little dragon. The more he plays with it, the more a plan starts to unfold in his head. So, Cas isn’t flirting back right _now_ , but he’s definitely not turning Dean away. If Cas didn’t like him being around, he wouldn’t have sat down and had pie with him, or showed him his origami, or told him his work schedule. There’s just enough there for Dean to have _hope_ , but he still thinks that he should be taking this slow.

Dean needs to _learn_ Cas first before he can make any real move on him. Test the waters, and all that shit. So, why doesn’t he just go straight up grade school on this? He can start ‘ _flirting_ ’ with him, sorta. And how should he do that? With origami of course! Dean totally wants to take his time to learn it and use it to impress Cas. He never really did that anonymous secret admirer thing back in school, so this is going to be all sorts of fun and new to him.

One of the first things Dean finds is a step-by-step guide to folding a crane. He puts his dragon aside and cuts down a piece of loose leaf paper to start. The first few folds go well, but the rest gets interrupted when his chair suddenly starts to lean backwards where it’s not supposed to.

“What are you up to, freckles?”

Aw, shit. “Nothing, Nick.”

His chair leans back even more, and it’s one of the few things Dean hates the most that anyone could do to him while he’s on the computer. “Are you folding a gift for your _boyfriend_?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Dean rolls his eyes and leans forward to study the folding guide again. “And I’m just doing something to kill a little time.”

Nick hums and Dean can practically feel his breath on the back of his neck. “Then perhaps you’d like to know that loose leaf is too thick for a complicated origami like a crane, hm? It would be _much_ easier if you used _real_ origami paper.”

Well, _duh_. That’s what every single website says. “I’m just _practicing_. I’ll get some real paper later.” Even though he doesn’t really know where to buy it in the first place.

After a beat of silence, Nick taps Dean on the head and his chair rights itself again. “Jo, my sweet, would you like to play a game of cards with me?”

“Call me that again and you’ll be playing with broken fingers.” Ah, good ol’ Jo. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, not even Nick.

“Shh, dear. _Shh_.” Nick hushes her and Dean knows a beating is going to happen soon if he keeps that up. “We don’t want to be so loud as to wake the others, would we?” It can’t really be counted as _others_ , can it? There’s only one other person here.

Jo laughs louder than she should, probably because she might be trying to wake up the ‘ _others_ ’. “Oh, so you want _Meg_ to break your fingers for you, then? Because that’s exactly what she’s going to do when she learns that you’re hitting on the rookie.”

Nick’s voice goes flat and Dean is almost tempted to look to see how pissed he is. “The rumours of there being something between Meg and I are completely unprecedented.”

“Well, _duh_.” She laughs again. “That’s why you’re out here and not sleeping in the bunk area with her.”

Okay, now they’re entering the realm of conversation where Dean has zero desire to listen. He rolls his eyes and puts up the mental filter needed not to block them both out. He wants to keep practicing the crane for tonight. Except the shitty thing is that Dean is quickly figuring out that his fingers are big and dumb. He is going to need _so_ much practice before he can even think about giving Cas one of these.

And he can’t _wait_ for that day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Sunday – October 4 th, 2015_ **

It’s an unusually warm Sunday afternoon for October and Dean is _loving it_. Seventy degrees and no wind? Fuck yes, thank you Mother Nature. He’ll take this warmth over the chill they’ve started getting in the morning. The leaves on the trees are turning orange and red all over the place because they are well into Fall now. The outdoors is absolutely _beautiful_ , and that is the entire reason why Dean is at the park today. More specifically, he’s here for a _picnic_ , and there is literally nothing better than that. Especially when he didn’t have to make any food and yet he’s still here with some of his favourite people in life.

There aren’t too many spots to park in front of Hubbard Park, but he and Sam managed to luck out and snag one of the few that are right by the gate on Parkway Street. From the looks of it, there’s another spot at the off bend of the road just inside, so Mom and Dad might luck out too if they get here before someone else takes that. Dean doesn’t know where in the park they’re going to go and eat, but he figures they’ll probably walk for a bit to find one. Maybe they’ll walk the Tower Loop trail and sit to eat at the old tower! He wouldn’t mind that too much.

When Sam stops to read the postings on the community board at the gates, right next to the map of the park, Dean joins him. It’s always nice to see if there are any events that are going to be hosted in the park. Might be something interesting to attend. The first thing that catches Dean’s eye is a familiar poster that he totally saw last night. In fact, he has it folded up in his coat pocket right now to give to his mom when she gets here.

“Hey, Sammy, check this out.” Dean points to Cas’s _Found Cat_ poster with maybe a little _too_ much enthusiasm. “See this? The coffee guy I told you about made it.”

He hasn’t told Sam a whole lot about Cas, but it’s enough for Sam to know that _The Graveyard Shift_ makes the best damn coffee in town. While Charlie and Jo are fully aware that Dean is crushing on him, his family doesn’t exactly know that guys also fall within Dean’s scope of attraction. It’s not like he’s actively _trying_ to hide it from them, but he’s also not flaunting it in their faces. Given Dad’s complex towards Creatures, Dean doesn’t really want to test the waters to see if his prejudices carry over to homosexual relationships too. Not yet, at least. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Sam leans over to glance at the poster, but he doesn’t give it much more than that. “Coffee guy is the same one who does origami, right?”

Okay, so Dean also mentioned the origami thing this morning when he picked Sam up, but it was only to show him the shitty crane he’d made yesterday and that he’d learned how to do it from the coffee guy. Thought that wasn’t the whole truth, of course. “Yeah. Remember how last week we saw a guy feeding a cat on Elm Street? This is that cat and he was that guy!”

This time Sam’s glance is thrown at him. It’s followed with a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head. “You’re such a dork.”

Now that was uncalled for. Dean throws an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulls him into a headlock. “ _You’re_ the dork. Would’ja actually just _read_ the frikken sign?” Cas put a lot of work into that poster and it deserves to be looked at. And, who knows? Maybe Sam might know if anyone is missing a cat.

With some effort and a bunch of shoving, Sam eventually manages to extract himself from Dean’s hold. His hair is all fucked up now and Dean is a little tempted to reach out and ruffle it up even more. It doesn’t stick up all funny anymore now that’s it’s gotten longer. The only time it does that is if Sam’s been sleeping on it funny. But dean doesn’t get to see that anymore. Not since he moved out of the house, at least. He should invite Sam to come stay at his place for a sleepover soon.

If they do that, it should be on a night where neither of them will have to work the next morning. That way, they can stay up late and braid each other’s hair and shit. Can’t do that if the both of them work, considering how Sam will be starting his first shift tomorrow morning and he’s going to be working a proper nine to five shift at least four days a week. That’s just for starters. Depending on how busy the place gets, they might up him to five days a week and shuffle up his shift schedule a little bit. Sam said he’s flexible with his hours, so Dean’s keeping his fingers crossed that he’ll get the extra hours. That means more into Sam’s savings and who would ever say no to something like that?

Sam sounds loudly and flaps his hand at the poster. “Dean, I don’t know why you want me to read this.”

“Because I’m thinking of adopting the cat.” At the flat look that gets him, Dean punches Sam in the shoulder. “Why the hell else do you think? What if you know the people who own this cat!” He grins at the sour frown Sam gives him for the punch. “Besides, how often do you actually _know_ someone who puts one of these things up, huh?”

The pinched glare turns into something along the lines of disbelief. “Are you – are you seriously _proud_ of knowing – Holy shit, my brother’s a nutcase.” He pulls his phone out and starts poking at the screen. “Siri, get me the number for the men in the white coats.”

Dean pulls back to punch him again, but a loud whistle distracts them both. They turn at the same time to see their mom hanging out the window of Dad’s pickup truck as they drive up Parkway Street. She has her fingers in her mouth and she blows around them again, making an ear-splitting piercing whistle. Before she’s done, barking answers from directly behind her and Sam lights up.

“They brought Bones!”

“Of course they brought Bones.” Dean rolls his eyes. As if they would ever go to the park and _not_ bring him. He would snub the whole family for a week if they came back from smelling like the park.

He waves his dad through the gates and points at the free parking space. Dad gives him a thumbs up and drives ahead. Bones is already bouncing around in the bed of the truck, barking excitedly now that he sees Dean and Sam. As soon as the car is stopped, his pacing back and forth in front of the tail gate, waiting to be let down.

Sam runs over to meet with him, giving the old dog a good scratch behind the ears. “Hey, boy! Gimme a sec to get your leash and we’ll let you down right away, okay?”

While Hubbard Park might say that it’s okay to let your dog off his leash, the Winchesters are a little more careful. Bones has a habit of not always listening to commands, so he has to settle for staying on his leash while they walk the trails. His leash is one of those extendable ones, so when they come here to play a little ball in one of the clearings, he’s still able to run back and forth between everyone.

Dean greets his mom as she’s getting out of the truck. She hands him the leash and he tosses it to Sam. As soon as his hands are free, he wraps his arms around her and lifts her off her feet in a big hug. Even if he sees her every other day at work, and every Sunday because of their standing dinner date, it’s still a real treat to get to see his mom.

She laughs and hugs him back just as tightly. “Nice to see you too, baby.”

He gives her a little spin before putting her back on her feet. “What did you bring for supper? I’m so hungry I could eat a _horse_.”

“I know you could, sweetheart.” She pats him on the head and steps away with a laugh. “Who do you think raised and fed you for all those years, hm? Of course I packed something _great_ for dinner. And since you’re the one who asked about it, now you get to be the one who carries the cooler.”

Damn, he should have known better. Not like he minds, though. A cooler with some food is going to feel like he’s carrying a damn feather compared to how heavy his bunkers are at the station. Besides, it means that his mom and dad can walk holding hands. Someone has to bring the blanket with them, anyways – though Dad will probably be the one to carry the backpack with all of that in it. At least it’ll be less work than clearing the table and washing dishes after their usual Sunday dinners. Which is why Dean is infinitely happy that his mom decided to skip the formal dinner and go for a picnic today.

Once they’ve unloaded everything from the truck, Bones included, Sam starts for the trail. “C’mon! Let’s get this last hurrah started!”

With a laugh, Dean follows after him. It’s just like Sam to think that having a picnic at the park today is all to celebrate his new job starting tomorrow morning. It’s going to be fun to see Sammy working now, but it’s pretty disappointing that he won’t be able to see that for a week. Sam’s new job is apparently right by the station, but Dean won’t be there during his shift. It’s career day at half the schools in town and, as the most handsome and charismatic firefighter on duty tomorrow, he’s gotta be the one to go to all of them.

Since gender equality is a very important thing, Ruby is going to be his co-pilot for the day. While Dean isn’t all that thrilled to be spending the day with her, he definitely agrees that they need a lady there to talk about what it’s like to be a female firefighter. If they’re up to the job, Dean would love to see more ladies on staff. Given what his mom is like, it’s no surprise that he _really_ admires strong women. They’re pretty much the best. But while Ruby is cool, Dean is maybe not too fond of her. That’s kinda what happens when you hit on a guys’ under-aged little brother _right in front of him_. It was all in jokes, but Dean has a very strict _no jokes_ policy when it comes to people flirting with Sam.

With tomorrow being a no go, that only leaves a few days this week that he could go in and see him. The Sam has Tuesday and Thursday off, so there’s no point in going to Sam’s new work when he’s not there. Wednesday isn’t any good for him either. Even though that’s a day off, Jo already has her hooks in him. This year she started a vegetable garden in the backyard and now she needs help reaping the harvest. That and she wants to expand on it, so Dean got recruited into helping her do it.

And it’s not just the harvest that Dean is helping with, or building on to the garden itself. Oh no. Somehow he actually allowed himself to _volunteer_ to help Jo with canning, pickling, and bagging the harvest. More than half of what she’s grown is going to be given away to friends, family, and co-workers. Sure, he could totally let her do it all on her own, but where’s the fun in that? Dean likes having something to do. Besides, they’re _roommates_. It’s Dean’s belief – as it was taught to him by his parents – is to have a happy household, you need to _do_ things together. This is him doing things with Jo.

It’s a lot harder to find things to do with Jo than it is Charlie. With Charlie, well, Dean already knows everything there is to know about her. They’ve been best friends since they were little and they share a ton of hobbies together. If it’s not their love of movies, shows, and games, then it’s LARPing or clubbing together. Jo isn’t old enough to do that yet. She has another year to go before she can legally drink – which doesn’t stop her from stealing Dean’s beers out of the fridge.

The sad thing is, she isn’t really into the same genres as Dean and Charlie are. Jo puts up with them, and she’ll listen to them being massive nerds together, but it’s not like she’ll participate. She’s more into the outdoorsy kind of stuff. Hiking, gardening, camping, and the like. Plus, if Jo has free time that isn’t specifically designated for something she _needs_ to do around the house, then she’s usually over at her mom’s place helping get the restaurant and bar back open for business. When they’re open again, every scrap of her free time is going to be spend over there.

Jo basically grew up at _the Roadhouse_. Her house was just down the road from it, and that’s about forty minutes away from the fire station by bus. It’s not a bad drive at all if you have a car, but the only vehicle that Jo owns is a bicycle. She still gets around by that if Dean isn’t able to drive her anywhere. The only reason Jo moved in with him and Charlie is because they were looking for a third roommate to help with the bills and shit, and she wanted someplace closer to work. Turns out, Jo likes sleeping in. Dean has seen her roll out of bed less than ten minutes before they have to leave the house for their shift. Hell, there are times when Jo has gotten ready _in the car_ , or there was that one time she had to finish getting ready at the station itself because she was so late getting out of bed.

Maybe that whole sleeping in thing is something she hasn’t grown out of yet from high school? Jo is actually a few years younger than Dean and Charlie, and they both met her when she got her certification and joined the station. Like Dean, she had the process started _before_ she had even graduated high school. Unlike Charlie, Jo’s always wanted to be a firefighter too – just like Dean. Where they knew what they wanted to be since they were kids, Charlie still has no idea. She only went out for being a firefighter because that’s what Dean was doing and she figured the whole fireproof thing would work in her favour for once.

So, thanks to Jo, Dean's Wednesday is out of the question for going to see Sammy at his new job. Since he's back to work on Thursday, that means Dean will be done at eight o'clock in the morning on Friday. Even though Sam will be at his job that day, Dean is basically a walking zombie by the time he's off shift. Unless a call has him hyped up on endorphins, he's barely capable of getting himself safely home to bed.

At this rate, it’s going to be Saturday by the time he gets the chance to check out Sam’s new job. And that fucking _sucks_. Mom and Dad are both at the station tomorrow morning. In fact, Sam’s hitching a ride to work with them, even though his shift doesn’t start until nine o’clock. They’ll be the first to see the baby of the family go to his first job ever and Dean may or may not be mildly jealous. If his mom doesn’t get pictures of Sam leaving the station to head to work, he’s going to have to have some _serious_ words with her.

Well, either way, Dean is really looking forward to seeing Sam at his first job. “Hey, Sammy! What’s the name of your new job, again?”

“I’m going to be a _barista_ , Dean.” Sam turns to shoot a dirty look over his shoulder. “And the café’s name is _Trick or Treat_.” He rolls his eyes and turns back around. “And no, I’m not going to quit before I even start so I can apply at _The Graveyard Shift_ just so I can give you a discount there.”

“Jokes on you, Sammy. I wasn’t gonna ask that.” Dean sticks his tongue out at the back of Sam’s head. “I’m pretty sure Cas already gives me a discount.” He runs a hand through his hair as he turns around to walk backwards, winking at his parents. “Totally because of my good looks, of course.”

Dad, just like Sammy, rolls his eyes. “Or because you’re a firefighter? Most businesses give law enforcement, EMTs, and firefighters a discount on services and foods.”

Of course Dean already knows that, and he’s pretty sure that’s exactly why Cas is doing it. He _has_ noticed that the prices that show up on the back of the register when Cas is entering is orders are always a little cheaper than the ones listed on the board. It would be nice if that was just favouritism in play, but it’s likely not. And besides, Dean doesn’t really want to take any profits away from the café like that. In fact, he’d rather pay in full and give Cas and his brother all the business that they deserve.

It’s his loyalty to _The Graveyard Shift_ that’s making him not like the idea of _Trick or Treat_ as much as he should. Actually, Dean feels weird as fuck to not even really know where it is. He’d never even heard of it before until Sammy got hired there. It must be really new. According to Sam, it just opened a little while ago and they’re really close to the fire station. How close is close, though? Especially if Dean’s never seen or heard of it before? Granted, he doesn’t really get out a whole lot.

Oh well. He’ll see it on Saturday, if not sooner. And that’s when it’s going to be put to the test. Is it going to have coffee as good as _The Graveyard Shift_? Will it look as nice? Cas’s place has a _really_ comfortable place. Plants, and books, and games, and good music. It’s the perfect place and if the station wasn’t already his home away from home, then Dean would totally consider the café to be it instead.

Plus, there’s one thing that _The Graveyard Shift_ has that _Trick or Treat_ will absolutely not be able to replicate. It’s got _Cas_. They might have someone on par with him in attractiveness, but Dean doubts that person will be as mysterious, kind, and so damn _appealing_. There’s just – there’s _something_ about Cas that Dean can’t quite put his finger on, and it keeps drawing him back. Apparently it doesn’t matter what Dean decides, he just can’t stop from going weak kneed and tongue tied around Cas.

Any need to think further on the matter becomes a moot point when they reach the clearing with the tower. Dean loves the old tower. It’s made of rocks from stone walls and cement, and it took fifteen years to be built. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s been a hundred years since construction on it was started. And the best thing is, it’s still a functioning observatory. The clearing here isn’t _huge_ , but it’s nice. There are a few other families here already, all of them with the same idea of one last picnic before the colder weather finally sets in.

“Hey, mom!” Dean turns back again to look at his parents. “Where do you want to set up?” All the picnic tables are in use, but the Winchesters never use those. If they have a picnic, it’s going to damn well be on a  blanket on the ground. Unless the ground is wet. Then they’re screwed.

Mom walks off the path and starts dragging Dad to look for a nice flat area that’ll be rock and anthill free. Sam and Bones take off to jog around the edge of the clearing, though it’s not much of a jog. Bones insists on stopping to sniff every tree they pass. Nine times outta ten, he raises his leg to pee on it. Dean follows after his parents, but he’s watching Sam and Bones make their slow way around until they’re back to the path again.

“Here.” Mom comes to a stop not too far from the base of the tower and still near the path. “We’ll be in the sun, the ground is mostly level, and I’m too hungry to look any further. Let’s set up, boys!” She turns to Dad and holds out a hand. “Blanket me, John.”

Dad snorts and glances at Dean, eyebrows raised. What’s that look for? Is he expecting Dean to get the blanket out of the backpack? He’s not the one carrying it.

“ _John_.” Mom huffs, opening and closing her fingers a few time. “Blanket.”

He shrugs and swings the backpack around to get it open. “I was waiting to see if Dean laughs at ‘ _blanket me_ ’ because it’s some secret euphemism I don’t know about.”

That makes Dean laugh and he puts laughs as he puts the cooler down. “It sounds dirty, but it’s nothing special that I know about.” It’s not like he keeps on top of the ridiculous vernacular kids use these days. He left all that shit behind when he graduated.

Mom rolls her eyes at the both of them, but she’s smiling at them. She helps Dad spread the blanket out on the ground and Dean goes around moving things over the corners to keep it pinned. The cooler goes on one corner, the backpack on the opposite. Dad pins one  of the other corners with his ass as he sits down, and Bones settles on the other one. He’s already panting and his tail is thumping hard. Sam sits close enough that Bones can rest his head on his leg, the puppy eyes out in full force.

“I haven’t even unpacked the food yet, Bones.” Mom tutts at him and shakes her head. “At least wait until there’s something to beg for.”

Dean sits between Sam and the cooler and reaches over to give Bones a good scratch behind the ear. “He knows he’s gotta get a head start or he’s not going to get anything because the sasquatch will inhale his food as soon as he gets it in his hands.”

“Make fun of me again, jerk. We’ll see if you like it when I steal your juice box.”

He raises an eyebrow at Sam. “Oh _really_?” Dean puffs up and flexes, like he used to do when he was wrestling. “You sure you wanna take on the _champ_ , Sammy?”

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but all he gets out is a squeak. A Kool-Aid pack catches him in the lap and it was probably just shy of nutting him. Dean draws his knees up and avoids the one that Mom throws at him. He throws her a dirty look, but she just smiles serenely and tosses one to Dad. She has a water bottle that she empties part of it into a bowl and that goes down on the grass next to Bones. He’s not entirely interested in, but he does give it a few sniff.

Next up comes the plastic forks and containers of potato salad. Dean lights up at it and he has to resist ripping it open and digging in right away. He’ll wait for all the food to be brought out before he starts eating. Everyone needs to be served before they can eat. He’s a little disappointed when the next thing she pulls from the cooler is a plastic container full of kibble mixed with dog food.

“Aw, c’mon, Mom.” He whines, but still puts the food down for Bones when she passes it to him. “You’re killing me here. Bring out the _food_.”

She gives him a pointed look, but Dean only pouts harder. He’s _hungry_. They’re all hungry, and she’s purposefully dragging this out. If she was his _mom_ , Dean would be thinking some very mean things about her right now. Luckily, she doesn’t make them wait too much longer. With exaggerated motions, Mom pulls out four hearty triple decker sandwiches and Dean starts salivating. They’re jam packed with shredded chicken breast, bacon, cheese, tomato, and something green that Dean doesn’t really know what it is but he knows that it’s going to be fucking _delicious_.

“I hope you like wasabi mayonnaise.” Mom grins and gives everyone their sandwich. “And if you don’t, then you better suck it up and eat it anyways.”

Why the heck is she warning them about that? This is a sandwich she’s been making since they were kids. Mom knows without a shadow of a doubt that Dean and Sam fucking _love_ these. Especially when she puts extra bacon on them. They’re probably better than the triple deckers that Mom makes with Thanksgiving leftovers. She totally stole _The Moist Maker_ from Friends, and it really does make the sandwich incredible.

Oh God, Dean’s just making himself hungry thinking about it. He unwraps one half of his sandwich and waits for everyone else to do the same. Mom pops open her potato salad first and then looks up expectantly at everyone else.

In unison, all three of them answer; “Thank you, Mom.” Of course Dad uses her name instead, but it’s still said at the same time.

She nods, looking so damn pleased with herself. “Alright, boys. Dig in!”

And Dean does just that. He doesn’t have the mouth room to manage any sort of speaking for _at least_ five minutes while he devours the first half of his sandwich. Sam is a lot more sedate and he alternates between the sandwich and his potato salad. Because of the salt and pepper seasoning on the chicken inside the sandwich, and the wasabi mayonnaise, he knows better than pulling any of it out to give to Bones – no matter how much the dog whines and begs. Some families might give their dog that kind of stuff, but the Winchesters do not. Bones only gets straight, unseasoned meat or cheese. Otherwise it’s only canned dog food and kibble for him.

Conversation starts up after everyone has satisfied their hunger and slow down. Of course the topic of the day is Sam’s new job tomorrow. He’s so excited for it his first _real_ job. It’s no surprise that Mom and Dad have plenty of advice for him. Shit like wear clean clothes, keep good posture, smile and be polite. Dean’s only advice is to get a haircut. That earns him some airborne potato salad, but the laughter from everyone else is _so_ worth it.

The potato salad comes as a mid-dinner appetizer for Dean. It’s a break between the halves of his sandwich and it’s _so good_. He savours every little bite of boiled potato and the smooth mush of a hard-boiled egg piece. Mom always adds diced bacon to it too, just for some little extra flavour and Dean takes his time to pick those all out first just because they’re the best. One of these days, he’s really going to need to get his mom to write down all of her recipes so he can share the deliciousness with his roommates – and impress future dates if he ever brings them home.

Dean very quickly turns his train of thought away from those rails. It would suck _so hard_ if he let them take that route and maybe let himself think about the potential future where he could ask Cas over for dinner. Of course it would have to be after sundown, because Dean’s basically ninety-nine percent sure that Cas can’t go out in the sun at all. And that’s just what he’s gathered from their short conversations together. He’s still halfway convinced that Cas is a Vampire, given those teeth. So maybe he can’t eat this kinda stuff?

Well, that’s not true. Benny eats and drinks real food all the time. But it doesn’t do anything good for him. Blood is the only thing he can actually get sustenance from. It’s the only thing that’ll actually digest properly and give him the nutrients he needs to survive. Regular food just tastes good on his tongue and then it passes through as fast and as unpleasant as Taco Bell burritos. That’s not something Dean would want to inflict on Cas just to show off his cooking prowess, and he doesn’t have the first goddamn clue how to serve blood for dinner.

Motherfucker. His brain still took the tracks even though he didn’t want it too. Goddammit. Dean shakes his head out and polishes off his potato salad. He just has the last half of his sandwich to get through and then he can get up and start moving around and burning up some energy. Action will clear his head. That and it’ll be a ton of fun to play around with his family. They haven’t had the chance to do something like that all summer.

“Hey, Dad?” Dean swallows around a mouthful of Kool-Aid and eyes up the backpack on the other side of the blanket from him. “Did you bring the mitts?”

Dad gives him a flat look that, to anyone else, wouldn’t look nearly as incredulous as it does to Dean. “Are you even my son? Of _course_ I brought the damn mitts. I even brought a ball too.”

Sam coughs a laugh into his hand and Dean doesn’t even look to reach over and smack him on the leg. He shares a grin with Dad and starts in on the second half of his sandwich. If he gets finished with his food first, then he can get up and throw the ball around himself. It’s not nearly as much fun on his own, but it’s better than sitting around waiting for the slowpokes. Or maybe he’ll take Bones for another walk around the clearing to give the old boy some exercise.

When Dean finishes, Dad is on his last sandwich and Sam and Mom are taking their sweet time. Dean stays seated long enough to put away all his garbage in the cooler. Hubbard Park has a strict rule that if you bring any trash in, then you gotta take it out with you. Carry-in, Carry-out. Them’s the rules.

Once he’s got everything out of the way, Dean is on his feet. Bones gets up too, done with his food. “Here, Sammy. Give me his leash and finish eating already. I wanna play catch.”

Mom hums around a mouthful of potato salad. “First one to drop the ball has to do the dishes when we get home. And I left a _sink_ full of them.”

“Good thing I don’t live with you guys anymore.”

Dad throws his empty Kool-Aid pack at him. “If you don’t catch the ball, then you’re damn well coming to the house and you’re going to do the dishes whether you live with us or not.”

Damn. Dean knew he wasn’t going to get out of her that easy. He makes an exaggerated sigh and slouches off with Bones trotting at his side. They make it more than two laps around the clearing and another three around the tower itself before everyone else is done eating and ready to throw the ball around. Bones isn’t going to have much to do while they’re at it, but someone will keep his leash pinned under their foot or something and he’ll run between everyone to chase that ball.

This is going to be a fun as hell afternoon with his family and Dean is excited beyond reason for it. He loves that he’s twenty-two years old and his family still does things together – like Sunday dinner and playing ball. Unless he’s got a shift at the station, absolutely _nothing_ keeps Dean from his Sunday dinners. If he’s working, they have it the day before or after his shift. But every goddamn week, he will _absolutely_ have a big, delicious sit down dinner with his family.

There are a lot of things that Dean considers important. His family is and always will be top of that list.

_ _

**_Monday – October 5 th, 2015_ **

A long yawn makes Castiel’s jaw crack and ache. He groans and slumps against the banister. Has there ever been a moment in his life when he’s been this tired? After a brief contemplation, he honestly can’t think of one right now. Today he is absolutely going to have to have _the sleep_. He simply cannot put it off for another day. It’s been almost two hours since the end of his shift and he’s still struggling to stay as awake as he can. No matter what, he can’t let himself go to sleep yet.

There’s only one reason that Castiel would stay awake this long, and that’s a new employee. Of course, it’s so late now that he’s not going to be able to take _the sleep_ where he usually does. He’s going to have to do it in his bedroom, and he’s not looking forward to it.

Either way, the mess is worth it. When he and Gabriel decided to open a café together, Castiel insisted that he meet every employee on their first day. It’s almost impossible for him to meet them at their interviews, but Gabriel tapes them and they review them together later on. Despite the affliction his species brings him, Castiel will always find a way to be a part of this business one way or another. Besides, as the co-boss for these employees, it’s important that he meet everyone – including the day staff, even if it’s unlikely that he’ll ever work with them.

Another yawn actually makes his whole body tremble and Castiel shakes himself out. His eyes have been heavy since before his shift ended. He’s doing all that he can to fight against it. If he falls asleep here, where he’s hiding away from he is hiding away from the sun, then it’s entirely possible that he might not wake up again. Or, if he does, he won’t be able to get up and actually move. Gabriel will never let Castiel live it down if he has to carry him upstairs to his room.

He’s getting weaker by the second, but it’s almost nine o’clock and the new employee should be here any moment. All he has to do is to wait just a little longer. Then he can introduce himself, wish the new employee good luck on his first shift, and get the heck to sleep.

It’s the third yawn that makes Gabriel snap. He points a mixing spoon dripping with icing at him. “Cassie, I am putting my foot down. It’s time for you to go upstairs and _sleep_.”

“I will once I meet the new employee.” Castiel shakes his head slowly and looks towards the door, hoping against hope that Tessa will bring the new worker in soon.

Jess walks out of the freezer, dragging a cart of pastries behind her. She looks at her watch, then back to Castiel. “Well, he should be here soon. It’s only a quarter to nine right now.”

“Exactly.” He nods in agreement with her and shoots Gabriel a weak glare. “Just do your baking and let me sit here in silence.”

With a loud sigh, Gabriel returns to mixing, but he continues to throw worried looks in Castiel’s direction. Jess, however, is smiling from ear to ear. “You two have such a great relationship. I love it.”

“You need your eyes checked.” Gabriel huffs and shakes his head. There’s no actual bite to his words. In fact, he almost looks like he might be on the verge of being modest. Clearly he thinks that they really do have a great sibling relationship, and Castiel is inclined to agree. He couldn’t ask for a better big brother.

Jess shrugs and starts moving the chilled baking from the cooling trays to their display trays. “I’m an only child, so any sibling relationship looks great to me.”

“Even the abusive ones?” Gabriel gives her a look of horror, even going so far as to bring a hand to his chest. “You are _way_ more twisted than I thought you were when I hired you!”

Her answer is to throw an unused icing bag at him and rolls her eyes with a laugh. Even Castiel has to laugh, though his is just a quiet snicker that he tries to hide behind his hand. Halfway through, it turns into a yawn. It earns them both a glare from Gabriel, but it only serves to make Jess laugh harder. Castiel only stares back at him until Gabriel has to look away to watch what he’s doing. He’s never won a staring contest yet and Castiel plans to keep it that way.

With a happy sigh, Jess pats Gabriel on the back as she passes him. “No one is as twisted as you are, boss man. Wear that badge with pride.”

And there’s one of the reasons why Castiel likes Jess. She’s a hardworking employee who knows what she’s doing, _and_ she can put up with Gabriel. That’s what really matters. She was actually one of the first employees that they hired for the café. Balthazar was the first, and Jess came second, hired not more than a few months after the plans for the creation of the café were underway.

Jess was a part of this year’s graduating class from the New England Culinary Institute here in Montpelier. And while Gabriel never actually attended the school for his own degree, he did go there earlier in the year to headhunt for someone to help him in the kitchen. While Jess does do a lot of the daily baking and decorating with him, she also helps Tessa cover the front of the shop during the busy mornings. It’s also her job to do all the baking on the weekends when Gabriel isn’t working.

The new employee has no baking experience, but he’s going to be covering the front on weekends and on Tuesdays and Thursdays when Jess isn’t here. On those days, Gabriel’s kitchen helper during the day is a university student named Kevin. He has baking experience, but nothing formal and he’s not attending the Culinary Institute. It seems he knows how to do a little bit of everything and he’s a very smart young man.

In Castiel’s opinion, the schedule feels convoluted and complicated. Gabriel is the one who made it and he doesn’t seem to have any issue with it. None of their employees have complained either, so it must be alright. But everyone knows that the café doesn’t have enough staff right now. If someone calls in sick, there really isn’t anyone to cover their shift unless Gabriel or Castiel do it. But this is all they can afford right now. Business has been going well since they opened and in another few months, they should be able to afford another employee or two. For now, this will have to do.

Gabriel huffs loudly and waves his stirring spoon at both Jess and Castiel. “I see what’s happening here. You’re starting to gang up on me. Rule number one of the kitchen is _no teaming up on the boss_.”

“Even if one of the other members is _also_ my boss?” Jess turns and flutters his eyelashes at him, attempting to portray innocence. It’s completely ruined by her smile.

He turns his spoon on her and a glob of icing drops to the worktop. “Keep it up, little missy, and I’ll send you out to the front all day.”

“You wouldn’t dare because _Tessa_ doesn’t have a degree in baking like I do.” Jess puts her hands on her hips and tosses her head in triumph. “Unless you _want_ her to mess up your precious tarts, you’re going to keep me back here where I belong.”

As if summoned, Tessa pushes the door to the front open completely. She fixes Jess with a stern frown and crosses her arms. “You guys know that I _can_ hear you up here, right?”

For one moment, Jess gets the same look Gabriel does when Castiel catches him drinking straight from the milk carton. And then in the next moment, she breaks down laughing and shakes her head. “I love you, Tessie, but you couldn’t tell icing from frosting even if your job depended on it.”

Tessa’s frown starts to crack around the edges, slowly becoming a smile. “I love you too, Jessie, but yes, I can.” She sniffs and turns on her heel. “I don’t like _frosting_.”

She glances back over her shoulder and both Jess and Tessa start laughing. Castiel watches them in awe, amazed by how they could become such fast friends. Tessa only started a week before the café opened and already the two of them seem to be close. And, of course, they both get along so well with Gabriel. He’s lost count of how many jokes they have between each other that he doesn’t get. But it’s not like he has the opportunity to get to know them very well.

The only people that Castiel ever gets to work with is Balthazar because he starts working at one o’clock in the morning. He sees Anna and Tessa at shift change sometimes, but that’s only for a handful of minutes at a time. Of course, there’s nothing stopping him from spending time in the evenings on the weekends to get to know Kevin or Tessa better. Maybe he should make the effort. It wouldn’t be very difficult for him to spend a little bit in the café, maybe having a late night snack.

Tessa clears her throat and Castiel focuses on her again. “Hey boss and co-boss. The new meat is here, bright and early for your teaching pleasures.”

Gabriel puts his bowl and spoon down, and wipes his hands clean on his apron. “Great! Send him in. Jess, we’ve got everything under control back here for now. Why don’t you go help Tessa in the front before we sent the new guy to her to learn the ropes?”

Jess salutes and starts to remove the apron she wears while baking. “Sure thing, bossman.”

“Tessa, you’re going to be in charge of him.” Gabriel turns to her and narrows his eyes slightly. “Do you think you can handle that?”

“I’d handle it better if you hired more staff.” She sighs loudly, clearly forced, and puts a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “That way, poor Jess here wouldn’t have to work on both sides of the door.”

Castiel groans quietly as he gets to his feet. “We’ll hire more staff when and if we start making enough to afford to pay them. We’re still –” He breaks off with a yawn. “Excuse me. We’re still _new_.”

Tessa gives him a sympathetic look, as if she understands just how tired he is, and nods. “I know, I know. I’m just joking.” She shrugs and breaks into a smile. “I’ll only get serious about it when this place becomes a bit hit and gets too busy for the single staffers you’ve got right now.”

With that, she curtsies to the both of them and ducks back out into the front. Jess sighs and throws an apologetic look over her shoulder. “Ignore her. She’s just being silly. We’re doing just fine.”

Of course they are, but it’s nice to know that their employees are confident in the future of the business. It makes Castiel feel oddly warm inside. Even if he’s not as close to their employees as Gabriel, he’s still very happy with all of them. Everyone has been a great addition to the team thus far. He hopes that the new employee will work out just as well.

A few moments after Jess goes through the door, the new worker walks through. Castiel wasn’t sure what he expected physically, so he’s a little surprised by how tall he is, or the length of his hair – which he has pulled into a tiny ponytail. The new hire is dressed nicely, wearing nothing more than jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a comfortable pair of shoes. He’s carrying a backpack over his shoulder.

While Castiel has never seen his face before, he knows essentially everything that the new employee’s folder has to offer – though his name is a blank spot in his memories at the moment. It’s likely because he’s just so tired right now, because Castiel _knows_ he read the name in the file. He remembers being extremely impressed by the transcripts that were provided with his resume, and the new employee’s name would definitely have been on his resume, at least.

The new hire is a recent high school graduate looking for a long term job so he can save up for university. He was a straight A student with high reviews from his references – half of whom were his teachers. The closest thing to a previous job that the new hire had was a paper route when he was younger. That requires a good level of responsibility, and his affinity for being on sports teams throughout high school show that the new hire is not only a team player, but that he has good time management skills. It’s can’t be easy to play various sports and still manage to maintain a truly stellar grade point average.

As soon as the new hire sees Castiel, he turns and walks towards him. He holds out his hand with a nice smile. “You must be the other boss that Mr. Novak mentioned. My name is Sam Winchester. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

That’s peculiar. Castiel is _certain_ he’s heard that name somewhere before and he just can’t place it. Oh, perhaps it’s from the resume? Of course he would have learned it from there. He really should get to bed soon, the need for _the sleep_ is really messing with his head.

Castiel descends to the base of the stairs so he can shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure. My name is Castiel, but I’ll accept going by Cas if that’s easier for you. I wanted to wish you good luck on your first shift.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiles brightly and he looks excitedly between Castiel and Gabriel. “I’m so happy to be here. I’ve really been looking forward to today.” He pauses and looks down at his t-shirt, touching it gently. “I wasn’t sure what to wear. Is this alright?”

“It’s acceptable, but we have shift for you to wear with the café name on it.” Castiel gets it from the employee hutch, where it’s all nicely folded and packaged. “You can change in the bathroom and then Gabriel will take you through the rest of your day.”

Gabriel clears his throat loudly and gives Sam a pointed look. “Yeah, what he said. _Gabriel_. No _Mr. Novaks_ here, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” He nods and takes the shirt that Castiel hands him. “I’ll be right back, then. After I change.”

Castiel nods his head in agreement and takes the first step up the stairs again. “I can’t be in the sun, so I work the overnight shifts during the week. I’ll be heading to sleep now, but if you have any questions you can direct them to Gabriel, Jess, or Tessa.

“Thank you, sir.” Sam holds his head once more to shake hands again. “It was nice to meet you, Cas.”

“And you as well.” He shakes his hand once more. “I hope you have fun today.”

The moment Sam has left the room, Gabriel turns to Castiel and makes a sweeping gesture at him. “Do you want me to –?”

Castiel knows exactly what he means. He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s too late for the garden, no matter your spells. I’ll sleep in my room today.”

“But your –”

It’s too dangerous to mention those down here and Castiel quickly speaks over him. “They’ll ache a bit when I wake up this evening, but they’ll be fine. We can release them tomorrow morning.”

Gabriel gives him a flat, unhappy look and shakes his head. He walks to the door and speaks through it. “Jess, you can come back in here. I’m going upstairs for a minute, so I want you to show Sam where he can put his things when he’s done changing. I need to help Cassie with something first.”

Before Castiel can complain, Gabriel starts attempting to urge him up the stairs. Castiel drops his voice into a hushed whisper. “This isn’t necessary. I can just go straight to bed on my own.”

“You’re wrong, Cassie. This is absolutely necessary.” He gives Castiel an actual shove and starts climbing the stairs after him. “You only need to do this stupid thing once every four days and you’re damn well going to do it _right_ the one day you actually need to do it.

Oh God, Castiel is too tired to argue with him right now. He sighs and continues up the stairs. On the bright side, he won’t have to deal with an aching back all night. He hasn’t even reached the top of the stairs before he starts unbuttoning his shirt. It’s open and fluttering when he enters the apartment, and apparently he left his bedroom open because the cat is almost immediately at his feet and meowing loudly. Her schedule has been thrown off by the new employee and she doesn’t seem happy about it.

Castiel leans down to pet her. “I’m sorry, little one. I won’t be able to cuddle with you today. It’s a _sleep_ day for me.”

She doesn’t appear to be placated by that. The cat continue to meow obnoxiously loud as she follows them back to the bedroom. Castiel allows it and he hopes that she’ll forgive him for this later – after he wakes up. The way the cat treats him is the one anomaly he has with today. Everything else in his life always seems better after a solid day of _the sleep_. Hopefully she’ll still be as attached to him then too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious about Mary's sandwich of deliciousness? [Find the recipe here!](http://www.countryliving.com/food-drinks/recipes/a1956/triple-decker-chicken-sandwich-clv0707/%20)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Tuesday – October 6 th, 2015_ **

“What I miss?” Bobby drops back down next to Dean on the couch and props his boots up on the crates they use as a coffee table. “Did Sofía find out that Javier is her long lost twin brother yet?”

Dean shakes his head, eyes glued to the ridiculous Spanish soap opera they’re watching. “Nah, but you missed Alejandro and Maria breaking up for the third time this episode.”

“Damn.” Bobby huffs and slouches further down on the couch. “I always miss the good stuff every time I go for a bathroom break.”

Ah, there’s nothing better than soap night with Bobby. “It’s okay. They got back together pretty much immediately and I’m pretty sure they’re gearing up for break up number four soon.”

Since he’s the station chief, Bobby usually sticks to doing the day shifts where there are more people to manage. Once a month, he takes an overnight shift just to make sure that everyone is following procedures like they’re supposed to. By some strange coincidence, Bobby always seems to take his night shift whenever Dean is working. And that means Spanish soap operas. The best thing? Bobby doesn’t know a lick of Spanish and only knows the absolute basics from that one year in high school when he took it to get a language credit.

It’s pretty much the best night of the month and Dean loves it. There’s something awesome to be said when the boss man plays favourites and _you_ are the favourite. That’s really only because Bobby has known Dean since he was in diapers. He’s been a part of the family for years, and Sam and Dean grew up calling him _uncle_. In fact, that’s what Sam still calls him. Dean, on the other hand, favours ‘Boss’ more than anything, nowadays.

When the episode ends, Bobby gets to his feet and stretches. “You know what time it is, boy?”

Dean glances at his watch. “Time for another episode?” He’s just teasing, of course. His watch is reading two o’clock and that can only mean one thing; it’s _coffee_ time.

Bobby sighs and pulls a handful of paper from his pocket. Some of that paper happens to have a monetary value and he drops it all into Dean’s lap. “What I want is on the list. Get it and get yourself whatever you want. My treat.”

And that’s another reason why Dean loves working with Bobby. Part of the reason this is the best job ever is because he works with _family_. “Yes, sir!”

He bounces to his feet and does a quick pat down to make sure he has everything – phone and wallet? Check. Dean already has his bunker pants on, and his boots, and that should about do it. Bobby never requires him to leave wearing anything else, no matter what Nick says. When the weather gets too cold for him to muscle through it, Dean will probably start wearing his jacket every night. For now, it’s fine. He usually waits for it to drop a lot lower before It becomes intolerable.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute!”

There’s a bounce in Dean’s step has he heads out. He takes the stairs down to the main level, practically skipping down the stairs. If he wasn’t already in the best of moods because Bobby’s here, then he’s definitely getting happier because now he’s going to get to see Cas. It feels like it’s been forever since they’ve seen each other. When was the last time, even? Oh wait, wasn’t it on his Friday shift? Okay, so it wasn’t _that_ long ago, but it absolutely feels like it.

For a moment, Dean feels a flash of disappointment as he walks into the café to find no one at the counter. The café isn’t completely empty, though. There are two hipster-type characters sitting by the bookcase next to the stairs and they’re playing a rousing game of Boggle, from the looks of it. They both look up when he walks in and Dean tilts his head to nod at them. He even gives them a bit of a smile, just because he’s nice like that.

Cas is probably in the back or in the bathroom or something, and Dean is more than happy to wait for him at the counter. What he finds there is almost enough to make him forget about Cas entirely because holy _shit_ is he in love with this place. Right next to the display case, sitting between it and the cash register, is a cake stand. Under the glass cover is none other than a goddamn _pie_. Better than that, it’s an _apple_ pie and it only has one slice out of it. The beautiful piece of down home American culture still looks fresh and Dean almost starts drooling just looking at it.

He leans in and takes a deep breath, as if he can somehow still breathe it in through the glass. “Hey, baby. You are lookin’ _fine_.” If he could marry pie, he absolutely fucking would.

“Am I right in assuming that you’re speaking to the pie and not me?”

Dean jumps back from the counter with the un-manliest noise he’s ever made. Standing there at the counter, looking for all the world like he’d been standing there the whole time, is Cas. He raises his eyebrows at Dean and wipes his hands on his pants.

“Where the _hell_ did you come from?!” Dean puts a hand over his chest and does his best to catch his breath. It is _not_  good for his heart to be caught by surprise like that.

Confusion fills Cas’s eyes and he tilts his head to the side. “The bathroom?”

Oh God, of _course_ he was in the bathroom. Where the hell else would he be? Dean can feel his face going bright red and he’s getting the distinct urge to crawl into a hole and never see daylight again. That feeling only compounds itself when he notices that both hipsters have stopped playing Boggle and they’re both staring at him.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas’s confusion slips into a soft smile, the kind meant to calm Dean down. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t!” He shakes his head sharply, but he knows that it’s a goddamn lie. Dean’s just trying to save some face here, though that’s pretty much fucking useless at this point.

Cas’s smile grows to the point that it crinkles his eyes a little. “I didn’t?”

Dude, no way. Is – is Cas trying to _tease_ him? That’s kinda awesome, actually. Well, sorta. He’s not really sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s definitely something. Actually, Dean’s not quite sure what he should make of that. It definitely means that they’re getting to know each other better. Well enough that they’re comfortable making jokes with one another. So, that’s a plus.

With a sigh, Dean shakes his head and forces himself to calm the hell down. “Okay, okay. It’s redo this.”

“Redo what?” That amusement is still totally clear on Cas’s face.

They’re gonna redo things like this. Dean clears his throat and raises his hand in a wave. “Hi, Cas. How’s it going tonight, huh?”

Cas tilts his head at him, eyebrow raising again. His smile doesn’t waver at all. “Things are going well. And how is your night, Dean?”

“S’fine.” Dean nods and shuffles his feet, feeling awkward for how the night started. “How’s the cat?”

“She’s doing well, and she seems to be adjusting to my sleep schedule.” He shrugs and runs a hand over the keys of the cash register. “We haven’t had anyone call or contact us about her yet.”

That’s good to hear. Dean nods again and hates himself for it because now it feels like he’s nodding too much. “That’s good, I guess. Do you leave her alone upstairs for the whole night?”

Cas shakes his head and gestures up at the ceiling. “I try to leave her upstairs until I’m done all my work. Then I bring her down to keep me company for the rest of the night.”

Dean is actually happy to hear that. It’s super cute that Cas is so attached to the cat, and that way Cas isn’t alone during his shift. Well, that Balthazar character is in the kitchen all the time, but it’s not like he’s keeping Cas company though, is he? Yeah, either way, Dean likes that Cas has the cat and he’s got his fingers crossed that no one claims her.

“So, have you given the cat a name yet?”

“Naming her would officially make her a part of the family.” Cas shakes his head, but he won’t look Dean in the eye. “Until I know for sure that no one is going to claim her, I refuse to give her a name.”

Hah! It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines. Dean knows exactly what that’s supposed to me. “But you still have a name picked out already, don’t you?” He’d bet a month’s pay on that.

Cas doesn’t answer. He looks away and gestures at the cake stand. “Did you see that we serve pie now?”

Dean laughs out loud and he doesn’t care that he disturbs the Boggle players. “Distracting me with pie, Cas? Have my friends been telling you the secrets to dealing with me?”

“I can honestly say that they haven’t.”

The deadpan to Cas’s voice makes Dean laugh again. He’s still chuckling while he gets Bobby’s list of coffee and snacks out. “It’s just two coffees tonight, but the boss man wants something sweet to eat.” Normally Bobby writes down his first choice, and at least four other options to work through if they happen to be out of the first things. He’s so particular about his munchies that it’s a little hilarious.

Cas reads through the list and punches it into the cash register, glancing occasionally from it to the display case to make sure of what they’ve got. He hands the paper back when he’s done, and then pointedly looks at the pie. When he looks back at Dean, he raises an eyebrow. The question is plain on his face and Dean tries really hard not to laugh at it.

Instead, he fakes a really loud sigh. “And I _guess_ I’ll take three slices of the pie.”

“Three?” Cas actually looks surprised, but he still keys it in anyways. “Two for me, and one for Bobby. He’d fire my ass on the spot if I brought back pie without a slice for him.” Even if he has his delicious looking tart things or whatever.

“Bobby is the boss man you mentioned previously?” Cas asks as he leaves the cash register to start boxing and bagging the delights.

“Yeah, he’s one of them.” Dean nods and leans his hip against the counter, watching Cas at work. He rather enjoys doing this, because Cas has _really_ nice fingers and they move with a sure precision. It’s pretty distracting, actually. “The – uh – yeah, the other unofficial boss is my mom. She’s the office manager and if I’m being a bad son, she’ll stick me on shifts with my least favourite people.”

Cas’s lips quirk again in a smile. “Are you often a bad son for her?”

“ _Hell_ no.” Dean huffs and frowns at him for even implying that. “I’m a _model_ son.”

“Are you the only model son, or is your brother one as well?”

He’s fucking lucky that he’s still got that teasing smile in place, otherwise Dean would be on the verge of getting really pissed off right now. “Dude, careful. Don’t you dare speak bad about my little bro.” He narrows his eyes and gives Cas a glare. “You might lose me as a customer if you do that.”

Cas’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Ah, you have a brother complex too, I see.”

“It’s not a _complex_.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” He waves a hand at Dean and turns to get the coffees started. “Gabriel is also very protective of me. I believe his complex is even worse than yours.”

Hey now. That’s not true! Dean laughs and shakes his head. “Sammy doesn’t really need any protecting. If you’d ever seen him, he’s _huge_. But he’s still my little brother, y’know? I try and look out for him as best I can.”

Cas nods and stirs the espresso into Dean’s black drip. He doesn’t say anything and Dean takes it as his cue to keep talking. Otherwise they’ll be stuck in the middle of some awkward type silence and Dean _hates_ that kinda shit. He’d rather fill the void with his voice than have nothing there at all. Then again, Cas totally thinks that Dean shares too much about himself pretty much all the time. And that’s probably because he can’t shut the fuck up when he’s around Cas. It’s like he’s got diarrhea of the mouth and this is the _worst_ because he’s definitely not going to stop.

“Actually, Sammy started a new job yesterday. It’s killing me that I haven’t had the chance to go in and check on him to see how he’s doing with his first job.” Dean sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He just has to tough it out until Saturday. That’s when he’ll be able to see him at work.

“Monday?” Cas stops what he’s doing and turns around to look at him, eyebrows drawn together like he’s confused by something.

Hold on now. What’s that look for? Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. It’s at some café I’ve never even heard of before but it’s apparently around here somewhere. I told him he should’ve come here instead of going with your competition.”

That confusion doesn’t let up and Cas tilts his head slowly, squinting at Dean like he’s a puzzle. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Winchester?”

Understanding fills Cas’s face and his smile is right back in place. “Ah, yes.” He nods and turns back to the coffee. “I’m sure your brother is fine at his new job.”

Okay, now that’s more than just a bit confusing. “How would you know?”

Cas shrugs and fits the coffee cups into a tray, fiddling with them and keeping his back to Dean. “You can call it a hunch, I suppose. And the fact that I’m assuming he texted you the moment he finished his first shift to let you know how it went.”

Dean damn near face palms like they do in his anime. “I really _do_ talk about myself too much if you already figured that out about my family.”

All Cas does is smile at him in an ‘ _I told you so_ ’ kind of way. He puts the coffee tray next to the bagged treats and the boxed pie. One of them has another dragon attached to it, this time a red one. Dean knows exactly which coffee is his now and he’s trying _really_ hard not to grin like a goddamn idiot. It might give away the fact that his heart is absolutely pounding. He wasn’t expecting to get a dragon tonight. In fact, he’d almost completely forgotten about them.

The one Cas gave him last time is sitting at home in Dean’s bedroom. It’s got a special little spot on the shelf over his desk. He even cleared out the space next to it because he fully planned on getting more dragons and displaying them with it. Does that make him creepy for wanting to hoard the dragons that Cas gives him? How far away from being a stalker does that make him? It feels weird, but it also totally feels right. Because why _shouldn’t_ he keep them all nice and displayed when Cas works so hard to make them for his customers?

And Dean knows that origami isn’t easy. He’s been practicing on that crane, though he’s getting better and better at it. In fact, he’s almost ready to start using proper origami. Maybe later this week, even. The only problem with that is he doesn’t know where the hell to buy the paper in the first place. Are they at craft stores? That would probably be the best place to start.

Cas taps the display on the cash register to bring Dean’s attention to the bill he still hasn’t settled up. Right, right. He digs the money Bobby gave him out of his pocket and hands it all over. There’s more than enough, and Cas counts out the change for him. Dean pockets that to return to Bobby, but drops some of the change into the tip jar sitting next to the register.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean grins at him as he picks up the orders. “You’re the best.”

“I try.” He nods in thanks for the tip and pulls up the stool he keeps behind the counter. “And I would like to thank you for the review you gave us. It was very nice.”

Whoa, what? Dean is mid step backwards when he stops. “Seriously, you already saw it?”

“Of course. Gabriel and I check our reviews on the daily.” Cas shrugs and sits back on his stool, resting his heels on the first rung under it. “If we get a bad review, I want to address it immediately to the best of our ability.”

“Wow, Cas. I didn’t know you were such a keener.” He can’t help a small laugh of that, but it does make total sense – especially for a guy who owns the place.

Sure enough, Cas nods again. “As a business owner, it’s in my best interest to ensure that my customers are as happy as I can keep them.” He pushes his glasses back up his nose and gives Dean another smile that causes those wobbly knees again. “I’m sure the one who asked me out won’t likely give us a good review, but if you could ask your coworkers and friends to rate us as well, that would be appreciated.”

Shit, man. Dean hadn’t even thought of that before. He nods excitedly, all too happy to do just that. “Yeah, definitely.” He knows basically everyone from the station has been here already, and any friends that haven’t have absolutely been told about this place. So, it’s just a matter of getting everyone off their asses and coming in or making the review.

That’s it. He’s going to make it his life’s mission to make sure that _The Graveyard Shift_ stays rated as five stars on every review site the internet has to offer. As long as it keeps Cas smiling at him like he is right now, then he really doesn’t have too much of a choice now, does he?

*

**_Friday – October 9 th, 2015_ **

“Here you go, sunshine.” Charlie announces her return home by chucking a thick pack of square papers across the living room. It lands in Dean’s lap and a corner manages to catch him in a very sensitive area. He has just enough time to pause the video game before he curls in on himself with a whimper.

Charlie immediately makes the hissing sound of a wince. “Oops. Sorry, Dean. I swear I wasn’t aiming for your chicken nuggets. But – um – those _are_ what you wanted, right?”

“Next time –” Dean does his best to breathe away the pain. “ _Next time_ just hand me the damn things.” It takes him a minute before he can uncurl and actually look at the paper. “Aw, c’mon, Charlie. I needed _plain_ origami paper. These ones are covered in fairy herpes.”

Whoever invented glitter obviously hated the world. That shit is going to get absolutely everywhere the moment Dean starts using it to fold some origami. He’s going to be stained for life because of it and Cas is going to know that his glittery hands were behind the making of the mystery crane. Because Dean wants to do this whole flirting thing _anonymously_. The origami is supposed to be a kind of secret admirer type thing and he can’t do that when he’s going to be Edward fucking Cullen.

“Hey now.” Charlie drops onto the couch next to him and takes the paper pack back. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I told you; that only happened _once_.” And it’s also going to be the last time he confides in her ever again. Because Jo is _right there_ on the easy chair and now she knows too.

Charlie sighs and pats him on the knee. “Yes, yes, and you liked it. I know.” She holds the pack of paper out and wiggles it under his nose. “But if you looked, these are _assorted_. It’s a pack of one hundred and only _some_ of them are glittery. The rest are flat colours or patterned and you have your pick of the pack. Is _that_ acceptable, sir?”

Oh, okay. Well, that’s alright then. Dean puts an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re the best.”

It wasn’t all that surprising that Charlie knew where to get origami paper. She basically knows everything ever, like she has the internet hardwired into her brain or something. The only downside of asking her to get some for him was that he basically outed himself for having an interest in origami. It’s just a matter of time before she starts asking about _why_ he’s started, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. All she would have to do is walk into _The Graveyard Shift_ and see for herself.

Think of the devil and she shall speak, though the lines must’ve gotten crossed because _Jo_ is the one who speaks up next. “So, why are you picking up the ancient art of paper folding, huh?”

Dean very pointedly doesn’t answer. Instead, he un-pauses the game and goes back to completely kicking her ass at Mario Kart. She makes an unhappy noise, but picks up the game like they’d never stopped it. Her skills have improved since she moved in, but Jo is a long way off before she could hope to beat _Dean_. The only one who actually gives him a run for his money is Charlie, and that’s because she currently holds the crown between them.

“Don’t bother, Jo.” Charlie sighs and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. “I asked the same but he wouldn’t tell me.”

Jo loses the race and drops her controller in her lap. She has her legs over the armrest of the easy chair and glares at them both from across the room. “I say we tickle it out of him – and not just because I want revenge for this game.”

Oh no, oh _no_. Dean shuffles a little further down the couch from Charlie. “Yeah, no. That’s not necessary, thanks. I just heard that it’s good stress relief, so I thought I’d give it a try, okay?”

He’s not even looking and he can feel Charlie’s hardcore side eye. “Heard from _who_?”

Dean shrugs and hits the rematch button to start a new round against Jo. “Yeah, I don’t know them. I heard it in passing while I was out and about last week.”

When Jo’s character doesn’t move on the screen, Dean pauses the game again. He looks over to find himself on the receiving end of _two_ suspicious glares. Like hell is Dean going to tell either of them that he’s doing this because of _Cas_. Though, who would blame him? By now both Jo and Charlie have met Cas and even Charlie agrees that he’s dreamy. Of course, the Fae girl who works evening is more up her alley, but she can appreciate art and Cas is _definitely_ a work of art. Seriously, like, Dean has to actively try not to drool every time he goes in.

On the bright side, at least Dean is getting more comfortable with talking to Cas. At this point, he hardly flubs his words anymore – so that’s a plus. Despite that, Dean is pretty sure that he’s going to fuck things up entirely if he tries to give Cas the crane in person. So, that’s why he has a plan to get around that and he’s going to put it into action after he picks Sam up from work tomorrow. If he has the courage for it.

*

**_Saturday – October 10 th, 2015_ **

Dean puts the Impala into park and grabs his phone from the seat next to him. He opens his messages and checks the last message that Sam sent him. It says that _Trick or Treat_ , Sam’s new job, is on Main Street. In fact, it’s just down the road from the fire hall if Dean heads in the direction of the bridge. Funny enough, that’s the same as _The Graveyard Shift_. Which is exactly why Dean was delighted to get this text this afternoon.

See, also sitting on the seat next to him is a perfectly folded crane made with _real_ origami paper. Dean even picked a nice shade of blue that he thought would appeal to Cas. It totally has absolutely nothing to do with the colour of his eyes. Not even remotely. Nope. Blue is just a nice colour and Dean happens to like it and – yeah. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing special about that. Either way, now he can take the crane and drop it off at _The Graveyard Shift_ before or after he picks up Sam. It all depends on whether or not he finds the _Trick or Treat_ before he reaches Cas’s café.

With the crane carefully cradled in his hand, Dean gets out of the car and makes his way to main street. He’s doing his best to hide the crane from any passersby so he’s not _that weird guy_ walking around holding origami. It’s not actually _that_ weird, but he’s paranoid enough to want to hide it. Especially because what if someone sees him with it, recognizes him, and manages to tell Cas about it? That’s a super crazy long shot, but it’s a risk he can’t take.

Of course, since he’s passing the café, Dean can’t resist stealing a glance at _The Graveyard Shift_. He’s never been there during the day, so he kinda wonders who might be working the day shift. What are the chances that it would be someone he knows? It could totally be someone that he went to high school with, or someone _Sam_ went to school with. Or the most important thing of all, do they have _pie_ right now? Fuck, he absolutely has to check on that when he takes Sam there later – _hold the fucking phone_.

Dean stops dead in his tracks and now he’s the weird guy who just stares at things on the street. The usual blue neon of _The Graveyard Shift_ that hangs at the top of the window to the left of the door is gone. Well, not _gone_. It’s kinda looks like there’s a shade drawn over it. Instead, there’s an orange neon _Trick or Treat_ sign hanging at the top of the window to the right of the door. Has that always been there? No, it couldn’t – He would have _noticed_. That kinda shit just can’t be _overlooked_.

No. Wait. Holy shit. Now it makes sense why Cas asked to confirm his last name during Tuesday night. Sam fucking started there on Monday. They would’ve fucking _met_ and of _course_ Cas would know his own employees goddamn name. Which means that Sam would have known _ages_ ago that his new job was the same as Dean’s favourite café. Goddammit. Dean is going to have to noogie the fuck out of him for this. How _dare_ he not say that he was going to be working _here_ of all places.

After a quick check on both directions, Dean jaywalks his way right through the front door of _Trick or Treat_. Oh God, even _thinking_ it feels wrong. It is and always will be _The Graveyard Shift_ to him.

Sam is behind the counter when Dean walks in. There’s a pretty brunette girl next to him and they both smile at him. Sam’s is a _lot_ more ridiculous than hers is. He puffs up like he’s just _so_ proud of himself – looking just like mom. “So, you figured it out, did you?”

Since Cas isn’t anywhere in sight, and he doesn’t recognize anyone here besides Sam, Dean takes the risk of being a complete dork. He points dramatically across the room. “I am going to kick your _ass_ for this later, you little _brat_.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise. Do you know how hard it was to keep mom and dad from talking about this?” Sam practically throws his head back with a laugh. “Now you know the coffee at my job is going to be just as good as the stuff that you get at _The Graveyard Shift_.”

The smile on the girl standing next to Sam doesn’t dim at all. In fact, it only gets bigger as she looks between the two of them. She finally settles on Dean as she leans her hands on the counter. “Come here often, do you?”

Dean shrugs and puts on his most winning-est of smiles. “Only when I’m working overnights.”

“Aw, what a pity.” Her smile immediately falls and Dean can’t tell if this is because he’s not in during her shifts, or if she’s faking.

Either way, Dean winks at her and sneaks a look at the kitchen door. Good, it’s closed. If he remembers right, Cas’s brother works in the back during the day. He doesn’t have the first idea if – what was his name again? Something angel like… Oh! Gabriel, right. Does Gabriel work weekends? If he does, would he still be on shift right now? As long as he’s not out here in the café, Dean’s happy.

Sam rolls his eyes and turns to face the girl. “Tessa, is there anything else I should do before I go?”

“Nope!” Tessa turns her smile on him and jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “You can go ahead and change and punch out. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Awesome. Thanks!” Sam heads around her to go for the kitchen door. “I’ll be right back, Dean.”

The moment Sam is out of the room and the kitchen door is close, Dean leans over the counter and drops his voice into a whisper. “Tessa, right?”

She leans in too, eyebrow raised. “Yes?”

“Can I leave something here for Cas?” It takes a lot of Dean’s will power not to close one of his hands into a nervous fist that’ll crush the crane. “And I want to leave it _without_ my name. Please?”

“Oh!” Tessa’s eyes light up with something that Dean can’t even identify. “Is it a _surprise_ gift?”

Dean nods slowly and suddenly finds it very hard to look her in the eye. “You could say that.”

With a deep breath, steeled courage, and shaking hands, Dean puts the crane on the counter. Tessa looks at it for a long moment before she looks upwards at the ceiling and all the cranes hanging from it. When she looks back down at Dean, she breaks into a truly _huge_ grin. Oh God, she’s going to blab. He can _feel_ it happening. If she doesn’t blab, then she’s going to squeal. Abort, abort, abort!

But there is no aborting now. The crane is in play and he can’t take the move back. All Dean can do is put a finger to his lips and pray to every God in the sky, on the mountain, or in the sea that she will keep her mouth _shut_ about the fact that Sam’s big brother is the one who left the crane for Cas. With a wink, Tessa picks up the crane as gingerly as one could, and turns to place it on the shelf where all the mugs are kept. She even tucks it a ways back between two stacks so it won’t get blown off.

“There we go, safe and sound.” Tessa turns back to him and puts her finger to her lips too. “And I promise that your secret is safe with me, mystery admirer.”

Shit, Dean can feel a blush coming on. Diversion time! “And since we’re never going to speak of that again, I’ll take a straight black drip and –” He looks over and thanks his lucky stars because there is _definitely_ a pie for the day and it looks like it’s mana from heaven. “And I’ll take a slice of pecan pie.”

After a moment of deliberation, and a glance at the display case, he taps the glass. “Oh, and an assorted box of macarons too, please.” Those weird little sandwich things are going to be for mom. For whatever reason, she loves them.

Dean has his whole order in his hands by the time Sam emerges again with his backpack. He stops and looks at the bag hanging on Dean’s wrist. Immediately he looks at the pie display and follows it up with an eye roll. “Really?”

“Don’t give me that look.” He turns on his heel to head for the door. It’s time to make his escape before he gets caught. “I bet you haven’t even _tried_ it.”

“Of course I have.” Sam follows after him with a goodbye over his shoulder to Tessa. “I get one free dessert per shift and my goal is to try _everything_ we offer.”

That lucky bastard. Dean huffs and turns his nose up in the air. “Well, _I’m_ the reason they serve pie now, so suck on _that_ , sir. Guess who got to taste test the first product?”

“Do you want me to answer with your name or with what the kitchen staff call you?”

Dean turns back around sharply before he can actually go out the door and Sam damn near walks into him. “What do the kitchen staff call me?” Far as he knows, kitchen staff is Cas’s brother and that bread-azar guy. Both people that are close to Cas. Please, oh _please_ , let there be a God and let that God say that they aren’t the same people.

Sam gets that manic look in his eye that he gets when he’s got something he can hold over Dean’s head. “Oh, you know. The bread guy, Balthazar, and my boss, Gabriel.”

Oh _God_. “Cas’s brother.”

“Yup, that’s him.” Sam pats Dean on the shoulder at the kind of angle that makes it seem like he’s trying to casually guide Dean out of the way of the door.

No, oh no. _No_. This is not ending here. Absolutely not. Dean’s psyche is already fragile enough with leaving the crane for Cas with Tessa. This kind of teasing might break him and he could end up rocking back and forth in some corner somewhere. Dean honestly can’t think of a single time where he’s done this. When he asked Cassie out in sophomore year, it was by a note passed in math class. That was just a few months long. And Lisa was the one who asked _him_ out in senior year, and that lasted more than half the year. But both were girls and those relationships were _way_ more acceptable than asking a guy out.

Okay, but he didn’t _ask_ Cas out. All Dean did was leave a paper crane for a guy he maybe kinda has a bit of a crush on. What if Cas thinks it’s crazy? What if Balthazar and Gabriel find out about it? Holy _fuck_ do they have security cameras? He didn’t account for those! Is it too late to get Tessa to give the crane back? Because he would _really_ like to take that back right about now.

Tessa gasps loudly, drawing both Sam and Dean to look at her. She covers her mouth with both hands, hiding a ridiculous smile. “Oh my _God_. Are _you_ the hot fireman from the nightshift?”

“Oh no.” Dean turns to Sam. “Is _that_ what the kitchen staff call me?” Please, for the love of rock and roll, let the powers that be strike him down where he stands.

Sam puffs up with pride and slaps Dean on the back, nearly startling him enough to drop his coffee. “Why yes, Tessa. He absolutely is!”

That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. It’s time for Dean to run and never look back. “I don’t want to know what they say about me or anything else. I’m leaving now. Goodbye.”

It takes everything in Dean’s willpower not to _run_ out as he beats his retreat. Is it too much for him to ask that no one says anything about _him_ being the one who made the crane? Here he was hoping that the most Tessa would know about him is that he’s Sam’s brother – which wasn’t something he planned for _at all_. Wearing plain clothes was supposed to be enough to hide his identity, like Clark Kent or any other goddamn superhero out there.

 _Fuck_. At this rate, Dean might never be able to return to _The Graveyard Shift_ again.

_ _

Why do the days have to pass so quickly? It feels like just yesterday that Castiel had _the sleep_ , and yet, it’s actually been three days and tomorrow morning he needs to take it again. To make all matters worse, his back is hurting worse than usual. Maybe he should just stay in and – No. He had _plans_ for tonight and he’s not going to let this damn curse of his hold him back. 

It’s the perfect time for him to go for his walk now, actually. At ten o’clock at night, the sun has fully set and the cat just finished a meal. She’s settled down for a nap on Castiel’s bed, and there’s no better time for him to head out. His satchel is full of more posters about the cat and he wants to spend the night replacing any missing or damaged posters that he put up previously. If he can go farther today than before, he could put up even more in areas where he hasn’t already.

Twinging pain spreads across Castiel’s back as he pulls his coat on. The discomfort spreads even more as he shoulders his satchel. It brings him to hesitate. Why should he let himself suffer for the whole night when he could just get Gabriel to – No! He made a decision and he is going to keep it. And Castiel sticks to for as long as it takes him to get downstairs.

Tessa is in the midst of her end of the night cleaning when Castiel enters the café from the kitchen. He always likes to stop in and check in on the weekend staff, just to make sure that things are going well. If he leaves before Tessa’s shift is over, Castiel can see how hers went and then check in on the night staff on his way back from the walk. Although he trusts his employees, he still likes checking in on them just in case they have any questions or need help with anything – especially when they’re the only ones on staff during the evenings and nights on the weekend.

On weekends, the café doesn’t have fresh baked bread. They can’t afford a second baker like Balthazar at the moment. When they can hire a second baker like him who can work weekends, they will. In the meantime, they only have one overnight staff person and that’s Kevin. As a university student, he likes to use his nighttime shift to study for his classes. Castiel and Gabriel doesn’t mind as long as his work gets done and the customers are satisfied.

“Good evening, boss!” Tessa looks up from putting out clean dishes on the shelves. She breaks into a wide grin – the kind of grin that makes Castiel worry.

He hesitates at the edge of the counter. “What’s that look for?”

She tilts her head and continues smiling at him. “What look?”

“That look. The one on your face.” He gestures at her, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Tessa shrugs. “It’s just my face.”

“That innocent act won’t work with me, Tessa.” Castiel turns to her fully and crosses his arms. “I control your wages. Tell me what you’re up to. _Now_.”

With a sigh, she steps over to the coffee station and reaches up to take something off the cup shelf. Tessa cradles that something between her hands and walks over to him like she’s carrying precious cargo. Castiel is expecting anything from a live animal of some sort to something made of crystal. The last thing he expects is for her to reveal an origami crane folded out of sky blue paper.

There’s only one thing Castiel can think to say right now. “That’s not one of mine.”

“Of course not, silly!” Tessa takes his hand and puts the crane in the palm of it. “It’s a _gift_ from a _secret admirer_.” She sing songs the last words before dropping her voice into a whisper and leaning in. “They left it for _you_!”

Castiel’s stomach sinks to rest in the vicinity of his shoes. “That can’t be right.”

“Oh no, dear boss man, it absolutely _is_ right.” Tessa claps her hands together excitedly. “They specifically asked that I give it to _you_.”

He shakes his head slowly, doing his best to refuse to believe this. “Why would they – _Why_?”

Tessa’s smile fades slightly and she stops clapping. “I’m assuming it’s because they like you and they wanted to leave you a gift.”

Okay, but – but _why_? “Who left it?”

“That defeats the purpose of having a _secret_ admirer.” Her smiles falls completely into something verging on confusion. “Telling you who it was would defeat the purpose of leaving it anonymously.”

Castiel furrows his brows and stares at the crane. Is this something he should be worried about? “You don’t find that creepy?”

She shakes her head quickly and her smile is back in an instant. “Of course not! It’s _romantic_.”

Really? He just doesn’t see it. “But, it’s a little creepy. I don’t understand how leaving me gifts is supposed to make me like them if I don’t know who they are?”

Tessa sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “You’re spoiling it, Cas. Just take the stupid crane or throw it in the trash, okay?”

While that might certainly be an option for dealing with this, it doesn’t really sit well with him. Castiel turns the crane over in his hands, examining it from all angles. From what he can tell, there’s nothing altogether sinister about it. And since none of the crystals in the apartment or the shop registered any large sources of magic in the area, the chances of a Witch being the one to have left this are significantly low. Could this really be a matter of someone actually _admiring_ him?

If that truly is the case, then who is it? Castiel wracks his brain trying to think of who it could be. His need for _the sleep_ hasn’t started affecting his ability to think yet, but no names or faces jump out at him right away. A few swim to the surface as potential possibilities, but it’s not like he would feel comfortable making solid guesses about it.

For starters, Castiel hardly knows anyone in town. He’s kept very much to himself for the last year that they’ve been living here. The only people he’s gotten to know are his employees, and even that might be in the loosest of terms. Castiel is fairly certain that none of them would leave him something like this. He would have noticed if any of his employees were infatuated enough to give him a secret gift, right? At the very least _Gabriel_ would have noticed.

So, if it’s not an employee, does that mean it’s a customer? That sounds like a more likely option. But who? Since the modus operandi is origami, it’s likely someone who knows that Castiel is the one folding the cranes as decoration for the café. Unfortunately, that doesn’t exactly narrow the list any. There are quite a few customers who have seen him in the process of folding, or have pointedly asked about the cranes. He’s explained it to more people than he can remember, so trying to figure it out by that list is more than useless.

Tessa sighs and goes back to the dish shelves. “If you’re so worried about who left it for you, I can confirm that it’s someone I would trust with my life. And if you won’t take my word for it, why don’t you just check the security cameras?”

Yet another viable option for solving this puzzle. Castiel is exceptionally tempted to check the security cameras, but what good is that going to do him? There’s the possibility that he won’t recognize them, but what if he _does_ recognize who it is? Won’t that make things awkward between them whenever that customer comes in while he’s working? Would he be honour bound to confront them once he knows who they are? And if he _doesn’t_ confront them about it, would it still be awkward for _him_ knowing that it was them who left him a gift?

Castiel is so torn on this matter that there’s only one thing that he knows for sure right now; there’s no way he can go for a walk right now. First, he needs to consult Gabriel about this and make sure that it’s nothing dangerous. Next, he needs to just – just sit and think.

“Boss man, I need you to listen to me again.” Tessa is suddenly in front of Castiel and covering the crane in his hands with her own. “Don’t. Be. Dumb.”

Now she’s just being insulting. “Ex _cuse_ me?”

She takes a deep breath and moves to pat him on the shoulders. “The person who left this for you is using what we like to call _high school tactics_.”

“I never went to high school.” Castiel was home schooled since he was thirteen years old. Since he had nothing better to do, he actually ‘ _graduated_ ’ much earlier than most would.

Tessa steps back with a sigh and shakes her head. “That actually explains a lot.”

Castiel tilts his head and looks from her to the crane. “So, you’re saying if I went to high school I might see this as sweet and romantic?”

That makes her pause and she tilts her head too. She  looks him up and down, tapping at her chin. “Actually, knowing what I know about you, you’d probably still think the same.”

Now that really piques Castiel’s concern. He narrows his eyes and takes a step back. “What exactly do you know about me?”

“Next to nothing, and I still think you’d probably be reacting the same way.” She sighs and gets back to putting away the dishes. “Your poor admirer is going to get their heart broken when they find out you put that lovely crane in the trash.”

“I never said I was going to do that.”

Tessa tosses him a doubtful look over her shoulder. “That said, if you’re going to throw it out, you could just leave it for me. I’ll take it.”

He holds the crane closer to his chest and turns away slightly. “But it wasn’t intended for you.”

A smile starts growing on her lips again. “No, but I’ll be able to give it back to the admirer and give them a proper rejection for them from you.”

No, no. That doesn’t sit right with Castiel either. This is going to be something that he needs to think about. He is somewhat touched that someone went to the effort to make him a gift, but he’s still rather weirded out because it’s just – this has _never_ happened to him before. It’s leaving him with a rather unsettled feeling resting in his chest.

“Thank you for accepting this for me. I’m – I’m going to go think about this upstairs.” Castiel ducks out with a quick goodnight, escaping before Tessa tries to talk him into anything else.

As soon as he shuts the door to the apartment behind him, he finds himself confronted by Gabriel. “You’re back exceptionally early. What’s wrong?”

“You _really_ need to stop staying up when I go on walks.” Castiel sighs, but keeps the crane hidden in the curl of his hand as he pulls the strap of his bag over his head. “Go to bed, Gabriel. You need to wake up early and –” A particularly painful twinge across his back makes him wince.

“Whoa, hold on.” Gabriel grabs him by the arm, concern painted clear across his face. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

While Castiel would really like to talk about the secret admirer and the crane, it’s already much too late for Gabriel to still be awake. They can talk about all of this in the morning before _the sleep_ and after he’s spent the whole night with an aching back and a head full of thoughts about _everything_. But, since he’s not going to be leaving the house for the rest of the night, he might as well kill two birds with one stone. He can make sure that Gabriel gets an appropriate amount of sleep _and_ he can get rid of his pain.

“Yes, I’m hurt.” Castiel uses the motion of taking off his trench coat to carefully flatten the crane and make it much easier to hide. He’ll show it to Gabriel in the morning. “My back is hurting more than usual. I think it’s time that I spend a night with them out.”

“Oh.” Gabriel steps back in surprise. “Alright. I can help you with that.” He rolls up the sleeves of his pajama shirt and steps out of the way. “You wanna do it in your bedroom?”

Castiel nods and brushes past him. He continues to hide the crane, this time by putting it underneath his bag when he puts it on the bed. The cat makes a chirrup of displeasure as the bed moves and she lifts her head to give them a sleepy glare. Castiel reaches over to give her a full body pet in apology for disturbing her.

“Alright, Cassie. Shirt off.” Gabriel appears in the doorway with a small knife in hand. “Let’s get this over with so I can hit the hay.”

“You should already _be_ in bed.” He sighs and starts peeling off his layers of clothing, slowly but surely revealing one of his greatest secrets; a tattoo of wings that spread across his pack and partially down his arms. “But thank you for being awake right now. This is going to be very helpful.”

“I’m awake because I’m awesome and know when I’m needed.” Gabriel laughs and puts the tip of the knife to the pad of his thumb, cutting a shallow line. “Now turn around and show me those wings.”

This part is always rather uncomfortable. Castiel has never liked the feeling of having blood painted between his shoulder blades, right between the tattooed bases of his wings. He’s been on the receiving end of this so many times that he can even mentally draw a picture of the focusing circle while Gabriel moves his thumb over his skin. The hair on the back of his neck stands as Gabriel starts mumbling a spell. Power starts gathering in the room and even the cat can sense it. She jumps up and starts pacing, meowing loudly.

If he could, Castiel would try to calm her, but this process isn’t comfortable for a variety of reasons beyond the blood. He braces himself the moment the verbal spell ends. Gabriel presses his palm fully in the center of the circle. The jolt of magic coursing through Castiel’s body sends him to his knees. He doubles over to press his forehead against the floor, breathing hard through his nose to get himself through the feeling of having each feather tattooed along his back and arms pull free of his skin. His wings spread out and upwards as they take their physical form again.

It’s all thanks to Gabriel’s magic and his cleverly crafted spells that they’re able to hide Castiel’s wings during the day. They are, by far, his most obvious physical aspect. Without them, most normally assume that he’s nothing more than a Vampire. That’s why it became necessary to hide them. It was a stroke of genius when they decided to transforming them into tattoos during the day hours, even if this method isn’t entirely favourable. It was a much better option than removing the cursed appendages in what would have undoubtedly been a _more_ painful process.

Castiel is left panting once his wings are finally free, but dear _God_ does it feel good to have them out. He takes a deep breath and gets to his feet, wings folded against his back. “Thank you.”

Gabriel looks pleased as punch with himself and he backs out of the way to stand in the door. “No problem, Cassie. Just try not to knock anything over with those tonight, hm?”

“Don’t mock me.” He hasn’t knocked anything over with his wings in ages. “Now, please. Go get some sleep, and you don’t even need to get up early to help me in the morning. You can actually _sleep in_.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all damn day!” Gabriel throws his head back with a laugh. “I’m going to go wash my hand now. Goodnight!”

Castiel shuts the door after him and turns to find the cat sitting on the edge of bed and staring at him with the widest of eyes. This isn’t the first that she’s seen his wings, but she does seem to have a particular affinity for them. Perhaps it’s her feline instincts and she thinks they resemble bird wings? Either way, Castiel is rather looking forward to seeing how she’ll react when he sheds a feather in front of her. His hope is that she’ll pounce and find a new toy in it.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to her, his longer feathers curling against the blankets. Immediately the cat starts sniffing at his nearest feathers, even reaching out a cautionary paw to touch one. She’s seen them before, but she’s never had the chance to touch one like this. As long as she doesn’t try to rip one out, he’s happy to let her touch.

“It looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening.” Castiel touches the top of her head with a sigh. “Would you like to chase a paper ball on a string?”

While he won’t be getting his walk in tonight, but at least he gets to spend the night with the cat. It’s some quality time with her and he’d like to have as much of that as he can. Because, really, who knows how long he has before someone comes to claim her?

It’s all Castiel can do to hope that day never comes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Sunday – October 11 th, 2015_ **

The need for _the sleep_ is weighing heavier on Castiel’s mind with every passing minute. He can’t even say how long the TV has been playing without him actually watching it. What show is even playing right now? Castiel doesn’t have the foggiest. He hasn’t even been looking at it for who-knows-how-long.

For the last however long, his eyes have been vaguely focused on the paper crane sitting on his knee. The colour is absolutely lovely, to be sure, but that doesn’t really matter for anything. What Castiel cares about is _who_ made it. For the life of him, he can’t figure out who it might be. And this really is the worst time to be trying to think of it. His brain is not awake enough for this.

It would be nice if he could blame his headache on eye strain. At least then all he would need to do is take a painkiller and be done with it. He can’t even say it’s because he hasn’t worn his glasses since his aborted attempt at a walk earlier. They’re not corrective lenses and he _never_ wears them when he’s just sitting around the house. They’re only good for hiding his face and distracting from his eyes. No, the only thing he can blame his headache on is this stupid curse of his.

With a sigh, Castiel moves his hand to the purring ball of fur resting against his leg. The cat lifts her head at the touch, but she puts it down almost immediately. She spent more than half the night playing and chasing all manner of toys around the apartment. The poor thing must be exhausted and it’s a good thing that bedtime will be shortly. Hopefully she’ll have a good long sleep throughout the day and won’t cause much trouble for Gabriel.

Judging by the clock and how the sky is starting to grow slowly lighter through the window, the sun is probably only fifteen or so minutes away from rising. If Castiel wants to take his sleep out in the garden, then he should start getting ready for it now. But that requires moving and thinking and doing things. It would be so much easier just to sleep right here with his wings spread out over the couch. Gabriel might not like it, but he’s not the one who has to deal with this bone deep exhaustion like Castiel does.

“Good morning, little brother!”

Speak of the devil and he doth appear. Castiel lifts his head to give Gabriel a tired, though surprised, look. It gets across everything he doesn’t feel like verbalizing. Things such as why his big brother would be awake this early when he doesn’t have to be, and why Gabriel’s boxers have little Spider-Man faces on them. He was sure that Gabriel was more a fan of Loki from the Thor series instead. They have so much in common, after all.

In his surprise, Castiel accidentally knocks the crane from his knee. His wings arch up to stay spread as he leans over to pick it up again. They droop the moment he leans back against the couch. Unfortunately, the action draws Gabriel’s attention to the crane and Castiel realizes too late to hide it.

“Hey, that’s not one of yours.”

Oh God. He is _far_ too tired for this kind of conversation. “How can you tell?”

Gabriel shrugs. “It would be hanging downstairs if it was one of yours, wouldn’t it?”

Good point. Castiel’s answer is a shrug too and he stands up with a yawn. The cat gets to her feet and stretches too, her back curving. Since he’s already told the cat about the crane, he might as well tell Gabriel about it too, right? He’s going to find out eventually and Castiel _did_ want to talk to him about it at some point. But does he have the energy to talk about it now? Does he even have the _time_?

While he might not have the time or the energy, Castiel might as well just get it over with. He’ll be quick and to the point. That way, they can full discuss this later after he’s had _the sleep_. With a sigh, Castiel folds his wings against his back and starts across the living room. “A secret admirer left it for me yesterday afternoon. Tessa gave it to me last night.”

“A _what_ did _what_?!” Gabriel grabs Castiel by the arm and pulls him around to face him.

This was exactly what he feared. He really didn’t want to be interrogated about this. Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “Do I actually have to repeat myself or can I just go change? I’m _tired_ and the sun is going to come up soon. If this is a problem, you can figure it out while I sleep.”

Contrary to how Castiel thought he would react, Gabriel is actually smiling brightly like a fool. “You have a _secret admirer_ , Cassie? This is _great_!”

“How so?” That brings him to pause and Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “You don’t think that this is something we should be worried about?”

Gabriel shakes his head quickly, almost starting to bounce in place. “This is great because they left it for you _here_ where we have _security cameras_. We can find out who it was! If we know who they are and can trust them, then you could totally go out on a date and –”

Dear _God_ no! Is he insane? “ _Gabriel_.”

With one sharp word, Gabriel deflates and his shoulder sag. “Oh, that’s right. You’re the biggest spoilsport ever. A secret admirer is wasted on you.”

“Please don’t start right now.” Castiel rubs a hand over his face, and he can feel his wings starts to fluff with annoyance. “Just let me get changed so I can _sleep_ , please.”

“Fine, _fine_.” With a loud sigh, Gabriel steps out of the way and gestures for Castiel to go down the hall. “You’re a great big wet blanket, y’know that? It’s not every day that you get a secret admirer.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and brushes past him, making sure to cuff him with a wing on his way past. “I know. I’m the worst.” He stops at his bedroom door and turns back to a pout, ignoring it. “The weather report said it’s supposed to rain this afternoon. Can you bring Harold down from the garden upstairs before then? Give him what sun there is in the morning, but don’t let him drown in the rain.”

Now it’s Gabriel’s turn to roll his eyes and he does it with much more flair and dramatics. “For the love of God, Cassie, it’s a _cactus_. And, for the record, Harold is a dumb name for it.”

“Say that again and I’ll put tiny cacti in your bed.” He narrows his eyes in warning. “And you know that over watering a cactus can kill it. Harold is the first plant I bought when we moved here and if you kill him, I’ll hurt you worse than tiny cacti ever could.”

With a loud scoff, Gabriel crosses his arms and fixes Castiel with the kind of teasing smirk that does nothing more than irk him further. “ _Hurt_ me? Is that really the best threat you can do, Cassie?”

He recoils when Castiel bares his fangs in a growl and fans his wings in a threatening display. Gabriel holds his hands up in defeat and takes a step back. “Alright, fine. I promise I’ll bring Harold the _cactus_ in before the rain starts.”

“Thank you.” Castiel nods, satisfied.

The cat rubs against his ankle and Castiel scoops her up in his arms. “I’ll see you this evening, Gabriel. I need to change now.”

Before he has to deal with anymore sass this morning, he ducks into his bedroom and pulls the door shut behind him. He places the cat on the bed and gives her a few gentle scratches behind the ears. “You should stay in here for the day and sleep. I’ll be back later.”

She meows at him and starts pacing back and forth across the bed. Her pacing continues as Castiel changes. As soon as he’s done, she sits and paws the air in his direction, meowing loudly again. It seems to him that she wants to be cuddled again, or is waiting for him to join her on the bed. Unfortunately, that won’t be happening today.

With a sigh, he picks her up again and kisses the top of her head. By now, Castiel has stopped caring that he’s starting to get really attached to her. The cat is sweet and deserves all sorts of affection after her life on the streets – no matter how long or short that might have been. He gives her another kiss to her short snout and lifts her to nuzzle his face against the downy softness of her shaved side. The cat doesn’t like that at all. She starts squirming and baps him on the face a few times with her paws, though thankfully she doesn’t use her claws.

A knock at the door interrupts his cuddles and Gabriel pushes the door open again. “Hey, the sun is going to be up any second. You better get your butt upstairs if you want to sleep out there today. Are you ready yet?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Castiel sighs and puts the cat down on the bed. “Have a good day, little one. I’ll see you later.”

At least when he’s well rested, Castiel will have the energy to play with her properly. It’s something to look forward to, at least.

*

The moment Castiel wakes up from _the sleep_ , he always has Gabriel seal his wings again. It’s much the same process as releasing them, and he’s very thankful that the blood focusing symbol burns itself off while it draws in the gathered magical power. Immediately following the sealing of his wings, Castiel takes a long hot shower. Nothing feels better than standing with his head under a high pressure stream of nearly scalding water. It’s not a proper shower unless he walks out looking as red as a lobster.

Showers wash him clean of the day’s grit and grossness. He takes extra care to scrub every inch of skin and washing out his hair. Castiel takes great pleasure with washing his hair. Very little feels as good as massaging his scalp with his fingertips. It’s his favourite thing about getting his hair cut – and Gabriel has been the one to do it for him since they moved here. As far as Castiel knows, there aren’t any hairdressers in the area who work late enough hours. Granted, he hasn’t really looked that hard either.

Gabriel is in the kitchen, busy with cleaning up after their late supper when Castiel comes out of the bathroom. He looks up from drying the dishes and sighs loudly. “Would it kill you to put on some damn clothes before you come outta there?”

Castiel has a towel draped over his head to help dry his hair and one wrapped around his waist. He rolls his eyes and continues through the kitchen towards his bedroom. “At least I actually _wear_ a towel after my shower, unlike _some_ people. I’ve seen you naked one too many times for my own liking.”

“Pervert.”

“Nudist.”

The cat decides to give her two cents as well with a loud meow from Castiel’s bedroom. She’s been waiting patiently for him and it would be rude to make her wait any longer. Castiel fully plans to spend the rest of the night with her in his bedroom. Or, at least he wants to spend _most_ of the night with her. Now that he’s chock full of energy after a full day of _the sleep_ , Castiel might very well go out for a walk tonight – which is part of the reason why he had Gabriel put his wings away after he woke up.

“Good evening, little one.” Castiel scoops her up the moment he walks into his bedroom. “I’m sorry I left you in here for so long. Are you hungry?”

She meows again and butts her head against the underside of his jaw. He enjoys it when she does that and lets her continue doing it while he moves around the room to put out some fresh food for her. While the kitchen might be where they keep the majority of her food, Castiel does keep a couple cans in his bedroom if he ever wants to feed her in the middle of the night without clunking about in the kitchen where he might end up disturbing Gabriel.

Once he has the food in her bowls, the cat starts squirming almost violently to get out of his arms. At risk of having his chest or arm shredded by her claws, Castiel puts her down to let her eat. He leaves her be and finishes drying his hair. When he’s done, he hands the towel up on the back of his bedroom door. Now what should he do?

Castiel browses his bookshelf while contemplating what he should do for the rest of the night. He definitely wants to go for a walk later, but right now he could just lie on the bed and read for a while. It’s easier to play with the cat while he’s reading than anything else. Actually, there’s a book he’s looking forward to finishing, so that’s something for him to do!

First thing’s first, he needs to put his crystal back on. Castiel always takes the necklace off while he has _the sleep_ , and he definitely doesn’t wear it while he’s showering. Everything feels a lot better for him once he’s wearing the necklace again. He’s gotten so used to wearing it over the last several years that it just feels _wrong_ not to have it on. Unlike his glasses, which he needs a note on the stairwell door to remind him to put on before going downstairs. Right now, those are sitting out on his bedside table. Gabriel practically put Harold down right on top of them when he brought the cactus in from outside.

Satisfied and with a hum, Castiel grabs the cat’s toy and stretches out on his stomach across the bed. He puts his feet on the pillow and his head at the end of the bed. It’ll be easier to play with the cat this way when she’s done eating. Her favourite toy at this point in time is simply just a crumpled ball of paper tied to the end of a piece of string. It’s all he really has for her. Castiel hasn’t spent anything on actually _toys_. It’s the one thing he’s stopping himself from going out to buy for her, if only because toys aren’t _necessary_ for a temporary home – unlike the litter box.

With the cat toy dangling over the edge of the bed, Castiel props himself up on his elbows and starts reading. Out of habit, he starts bouncing the string with the paper ball while he reads. The cat will start to play with it when she’s done eating – if she’ll play with it at all. She might go straight to sleep after she eats. Sometimes she does that, but he’ll just have to wait to find out.

Tonight she seems to be taking her time. Castiel gets several pages into the book before he feels the first tug at the string. Well, there’s his answer. Despite the food in her belly, she’s clearly in a playful mood. Now the only question is, how long will that last? Food normally puts her down for a nap at least for a little while. He doesn’t mind it, though. The cat is very adorable when she’s being playful.

Castiel ends up alternating between watching the cat and reading his book. She has a game all her own where she stalks and pounces the bouncing paper ball. Every tackle and swat is accompanied with a chirruping meow that is equally distracting as it is cute. Truthfully, he’s enjoying her antics more than he is the book. It’s definitely going to be placed downstairs once he’s finished.

It’s just some crime thriller based in France that Gabriel picked up for him at a second hand shop. Unless Castiel orders a book online and has it directly delivered, the only way to get new books is for Gabriel to buy a bunch for him at garage sales or otherwise. The only thing he really enjoys about this particular is the scene he’s currently on, which is a detailed walkthrough of the Louvre.

Actually, the Louvre is one of the top places that he wants to visit some day in the future. Castiel has a whole list of places around the world he would like to travel to one day. He keeps it in a notebook he carries in his emergency escape bag. The same notebook once had the list of all the places he wanted to see here in the United States. It was truly a delight to travel around across the country for two years to complete that list.

Maybe, if they have to run again, Castiel can try and convince Gabriel to go into hiding overseas. What are the chances that the Witches would follow them over there? That would only be if they knew that Castiel left the country in the first place, and he doubts a black magic coven would have feelings that far away from their home base. It’s possible that he might actually be _safe_ on the other side of the ocean.

Sadly, Castiel knows that isn’t true. Black magic might be illegal the world over, but it’s not exclusive to the United States. There are covens that practice that can be found in every country. He’s not safe around _any_ Witch, no matter their magical background. It’s unlikely that any Witch, good or bad, doesn’t at least know _about_ forbidden spells and potions. If anyone finds out what he is or that his very being is necessary for those spells, the temptation might be too great to resist.

There’s nowhere in this world that Castiel would be safe, but he still wants to see it before age or Witches take him.

Castiel shakes his head to free it of those kinds of thoughts. He forces himself to focus on the passage where the detective is examining the statue; Nike of Samothrace, going on at length about how _Winged Victory_ must have some connection to the case. From what Castiel can tell, it doesn’t have any connection, but so far the crime has been rather transparent. He already knows the killer was the detective’s boss and it’s just a matter of time before the detective figures it out too.

That aside, there’s something about the statue’s description that tickles the back of his mind. Winged Victory. Nike. _Knee-kay_. There’s just something about that name that _appeals_ to him. It takes Castiel a few pages to realize why. He lowers the book and tilts his head to look at the cat, giving the string an extra big bounce to make her go scrambling for it.

Okay, this is terrible of him, but he has to try. “Nike?”

The cat meows, but she doesn’t stop attacking the ball. He tries again. “Nike.”

Again, she meows, but this time she takes a swipe at the ball and pauses to look at him. Castiel feels victorious and he smiles at her. “Don’t tell Gabriel, alright?”

He can’t say exactly _why_ this name feels right to him, but it does. As someone with wings of his own, he’s always been partial to anything else with wings too. And a _winged_ victory? Well, Castiel would consider that the cat has been rather successful in her life given that she’s ended up here. Is there anywhere else that would have taken care of her like Castiel does.

Before he can call her by her new name again, there’s a knock at the door. It puts Castiel’s heart in his throat and he almost drops his book in surprise. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to try and act like he didn’t just pick a name for the cat that he’s not supposed to be keeping. “Y-yes? Come in.”

Gabriel opens the door and takes a few steps into the bedroom. “Oh, for the love of –” He rolls his eyes when he notices that Castiel is still in his towel, even though he finished his shower nearly an hour ago. “I’m just letting you know that I’m heading to be now. Is there anything you need before I go?”

Oh, right. Gabriel has to get up to work at five o’clock in the morning. Of course that means he’s going to be going to bed earlier tonight than he did yesterday. Castiel shakes his head and lifts the book up in front of his face. “I’ll be fine, thank you. I might go for a walk later tonight.” Most likely when the cat – when Nike – will go down for a nap. She’ll miss him less if she’s sleeping.

With a disgruntled huff, Gabriel crosses his arms. “I hate it when you go for walks this late.”

“I have no choice and I refuse to stay cooped up in this apartment _all_ the time.” He looks over the edge of his book, narrowing his eyes in a dare. “I promise I’ll stay safe. I’ll have my phone _and_ a charm bag with me. We both know that nothing is going to happen to me.”

A frown pulls down the corners of Gabriel’s mouth. “I’m just trying to keep you alive, Cassie.”

“I _know_.” And he is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah, well, I _know_ you know.” He grumbles and tilts his nose up. “I know other things too, y’know.”

What is he going on about now? Castiel sighs and marks his page in the book before he closes it. “Please enlighten me with what you know.”

“You sure?” The frown turns upside quickly, spreading into a wicked grin. “Because what I know happens to be things that I learned from watching our security tapes.” He even wiggles his eyebrows to emphasise his dastardly doings. As if his point wasn’t made, Gabriel also tilts his head to eye up the admirer’s crane currently resting on top of Castiel’s bookcase.

With a groan, Castiel opens his book again. He should never have closed it in the first place. “I don’t know what to know, Gabriel.”

Granted, it should have be obvious that he would have looked at the tapes during the day. While Castiel was sleeping would have been the opportune moment for that. If it had been at any other time, he would have stopped Gabriel from doing it. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Tessa knows who it is, Castiel doesn’t want anyone else to know too. Now that Gabriel knows, it’s only a matter of time before Balthazar does, and then Anna, and then every single one of their employees. In other words, every person Castiel knows.

“Aw, c’mon!” Gabriel whines and drops his arms, his whole frame going droopy. “Don’t be like that!”

Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t you dare tell me who that was.”

He groans and hangs his head back. “Why _not_?”

“You _know_ why not.” Without looking, Castiel can tell that Gabriel has a pout going. He ignores it in favour of pretending like he’s still reading the book.

“You’re seriously not going to do anything about this?” Gabriel throws a hand out to gesture at the crane. “It’s not every day that you get a gift from a _secret admirer_ , Cassie!”

Apparently the world is against him finishing this damn book tonight. Castiel growls and lowers it again. “What _can_ I do, Gabriel? It’s an _anonymous_ gift, as explained by the whole _secret_ admirer thing.”

“But we have the means of knowing who it is!” He’s being stubborn again and it’s only a matter of moments before he starts stomping his foot. “I mean, _I_ know who it is! I could just –”

Castiel shakes his head. “Congratulations on knowing, but this is _my_ secret admirer. They want to the pains of delivering it while I wasn’t on shift. This means that they don’t want me to know who they are now, or maybe ever. If they want to tell me eventually, then I am happy to wait until then.”

Frustration makes Gabriel’s face turn a lovely shade of puce. It takes him several deep breaths to return to a normal skin tone for him. “What if this becomes a stalker situation, Cassie?”

“Well then you’ll know who suspect number one will be, won’t you?”

The pout returns in full force and this time Castiel is actually witness to it. “Are you _sure_ you don’t have any idea of who it might be?”

“Not a clue.” He shakes his head again and pointedly re-opens his book.  “And stop trying to give me any kind of hint. I thought you were going to bed, hm?”

Castiel is lying through his teeth, of course, but he hopes that Gabriel won’t notice. Now that he’s had _the sleep_ , his mind is much clearer than it was last night. From the moment he woke up to the moment he finished his shower, all he’s been able to think about is who might have left the crane for him. The number of people that come to mind is a _very_ short list, but at least he has a list nonetheless.

As it stands, there is only one customer so far that has made an obvious pass at him. That would be Nick, from the fire station. He’s the only person to have asked Castiel out since the café opened. Although he hasn’t tried asking him out again since then, Castiel still gets the distinct feeling that Nick has continued to flirt with him whenever he comes in. But, can it really be considered flirting if all Nick does is critique his clothing, his music, his hair, his glasses, and – well – basically everything about him? He even has the gall to _suggest_ what Castiel should wear to make himself look ‘ _sexier_ ’.

It’s an odd form of flirting, but bullying one’s object of affections is a form of flirtation, is it not? Either way, Castiel doesn’t care for it and he hopes that Nick isn’t the one who left him the crane. While it might be a little creepy that it’s been done anonymously, the gesture is oddly sweet. The only reason Castiel is unsettled of it is because of his past and how wary he is of strangers and Witches. If it were any other time, and if he were someone else, he might be as touched by it as Tessa was.

After Nick, the only other suspect he has is a reach. Castiel has the sneaking suspicion that _Dean_ might have left the crane for him. Of course, that could just be his own hopes that it’s _not_ Nick. Of the two, Dean is absolutely the more preferable option. And, to be honest, it’s not like Castiel is completely blind to how Dean tends to _react_ around him. Besides, Balthazar has been witness to it on several occasions and he _insists_ that Dean finds him attractive in one way or another.

Either way, Castiel rather hopes that it’s not Dean either. After living in Montpelier for a year, the closest he’s come to making friends with anyone is Dean. If it came down to it, Castiel would much rather make friends with him than have any romantic or sexual attractions going on between them. The closest he can allow anyone to get to him is as a friend. He’s certain that a friend, just like a cat, wouldn’t be at risk around him. Friends of his parents weren’t harmed when the Witches came for his father.

The most at risk person in Castiel’s life right now, or any given time, is Gabriel. But even if Castiel wanted to try and put some distance between them, he wouldn’t be able to. Gabriel would never allow it and Castiel wouldn’t want it in the first place. They’re the only family that the two of them have left and, while cliché it might be, his brother is his best friend. To leave him would mean he would be left all alone. Having Harold, or the rest of his plants, or even having Nike wouldn’t be enough.

With a loud sigh, Gabriel shakes his head. “Well, fine. Be a stick in the mud.” It seems he hasn’t seen through Castiel’s lie, and that’s a weight off his mind. “But if you ever want to know who it is so you can let them down easy, just let me know and I’ll tell you in a heartbeat.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look up from his book. “Alright, but don’t you _dare_ try to give me any hints. I don’t want to know who it is.”

That doesn’t seem to be the answer Gabriel wants. His frown grows deep again, though only for a moment. He sighs and waves his hand as he steps back out of the room. “Fine, whatever. Goodnight, baby bro. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Gabriel.”

Nike meows and abandons the paper ball to take a few steps after Gabriel. She meows again, louder this time, when he shuts the door before she can escape. In typical cat fashion, she only wanted to leave the room when the option was no longer available. It’s not like she had every chance to run while they were talking. Oh well, Castiel would rather have her in here anyway. He bounces the paper ball against the side of the bed to get her attention, but she ignores it to stand at the door and meow.

“Not right now, little one.” Castiel sighs and continues to jiggle the toy at her. “Come play or sit. I’ll let you out later.”

He makes a soft pss-pss noise at her and that gets her attention, but she doesn’t budge from her spot by the door. After a few more attempts, he pushes himself up onto his knees. “Okay, then. What do you say to going out and reading in the garden? I’ll bring a blanket and we can sit on the bench.”

Of course, the cat doesn’t understand what he’s saying. Nike meows and this time she stands up on her hind legs and starts pawing at the door. If he’s not quick, she’ll start scratching and Gabriel will have an aneurism over the damage. He’s already upset enough about all the cat fur around the apartment. If she starts scratching things, he might demand that Castiel get rid of her. If she’s going to be staying for much longer, he might have to invest in a scratching post.

After getting changed, Castiel lets the cat out of the room long enough for him to make a cup of coffee. With a blanket draped around his shoulders and his coffee and book in hand, he heads out to the stairwell and out onto the roof. Nike follows at his heels, never far from him when he’s awake. Castiel isn’t worried that she might try jumping off the roof. She’s been up here with him before when he’s watered his many potted plants and garden beds, and there’s no means for her to escape from here. There’s no fire escape up this high as is.

Nike has been up here many times since Castiel brought her home, and he enjoys sharing his space with her. She’s explored every corner of his rooftop garden, and even used a few of his flower boxes as a litter box. After the swift reprimand she got for that, he hopes she won’t do it again. Mostly, however, Nike just sits with Castiel on the bench that he has at the back of the garden.

Once or twice he’s seen her sit on the edge of the roof where she can watch the street, but he’s never seen her tense as if she were about to jump. Castiel trusts that she won’t do anything silly like that. She doesn’t seem to be fond of jumping down from anything higher than a counter. The one time that she managed to get on top of the fridge, she meowed until he lifted her down because she wouldn’t make the jump herself and there were too many things on the counter for her to have a space to jump down. It was a rather cute moment.

To a normal Human’s eyes, the rooftop might be too dark to read on, and they would be right. In fact, without some light source it’s even too dark for Castiel’s excellent night vision. Luckily, he does have lights up here. When he was designing his garden, he bought a truly ridiculous amount of Christmas string lights on sale. He weaved them through every lattice and along the inside edge of the roof. Some twinkle and some are steady, but they make for a multi-coloured ambiance that he just loves. It’s still not quite enough light for a Human to read in, but it’s just enough for him.

Castiel wraps himself in the blanket before he sits in a corner of his bench, his legs drawn up and curled underneath him. This is a wonderful night to be reading outdoors. Everything is mostly dry from the rain earlier today, but the smell of it is still in the air. The night is quiet, calm, and fresh. The sky is clear and the moon is hanging low in the sky. He can’t see as many stars as he would like, given all the light pollution, but it’s better than nothing.

It’s a rare perfect night, and Castiel doesn’t believe it could get any better than this. He stands corrected when Nike jumps up next to him. She makes a little nest for herself in the ‘V’ behind his knees, though there isn’t much space between Castiel’s feet and his backside. But she seems to be happy with herself, and that’s all that matters.

Nike only makes this night better and Castiel couldn’t be happier.

_ _

**_Monday – October 12 th, 2015_ **

Dean’s hand has been cramping for the last thirty minutes and he grits his teeth against it. He _hates_ paperwork and the last twenty-four hours had not one, not two, but _three_ emergency calls. Those were adrenaline fueled, sweat filled moments of insanity. Everyone go through those just fine, so that’s a plus in his books. It’s always a great day when there’s no casualties on the civilian side either. Now, if only he didn’t have goddamn _paperwork_ to fill out afterwards.

With a groan, he throws down the pen and starts opening and closing his fist. It feels _so good_ not to be holding that damn thing anymore. The ink is drying and he’s finally fucking _done_ – with just over fifteen minutes left to spare on his shift. That’s pretty good timing, if he does say so himself. And, just because he can, he looks up to see who else is still doing their paperwork. Charlie and Uriel both have their heads down at the table, a stack of papers beside them. If he managed to beat Ruby, that means he's the champ – a champ with _intense_ writer's cramp.

"Don't you look pleased with yourself, Winchester." Ruby walks by with a cup of the sludge they call coffee from the kitchen. She has a self satisfied smirk plastered all over her face. "Something good happen to you today?"

"Just happy to be done with the paperwork." He forces a smile, his stomach sinking slightly. Damn! One of these days he _will_ finish before her. It's not fair that she comes from a generation where writing by hand was really the only option they had. If they were allowed to fill the paperwork out online, Dean would out type her by _miles_.

Ruby hums and nods, heading over to the couch. She's just going to bide her time until the end of the shift. God she must be so _pleased_ with herself for being the first one done. Dean wants to feel that. One of these days! He will abso-fucking-lutely he _will_ win against her one day, even if it's not a competition. Being the first one done is the only thing that makes doing the paperwork worthwhile. Sure, it's part of the job and everything, but Dean _hates_ it.

Oh well, it's an excuse to go and see his mom. All paperwork goes to her and she's the one who digitizes it before filing it away. She's boss like that and Dean's pretty sure the whole department would fall apart if it wasn't for her. Bobby might be the _fire chief_ , but everyone knows who's _really_ in charge. It makes Dean _so_ happy that she's got such an important position in the station. He knows she misses the action of being a firefighter, and she had to give all that up when she had him and Sam. But she's happy. Dean knows this for fact and as long as his mom is happy, then so is he.

Dean picks up his stacks of paper and flips through them to make sure that they're all in order and separated by paper clips. It looks good to him and he taps them against the desktop a couple times to line them up. He makes sure to push his chair in again before heading off to his mom's office. Her door is wide open, but he still knocks because manners are a thing and she insists he use them.

"Hey, Missus Winchester." He grins when she looks away from her computer screen, eyebrow raised. "I've got my paperwork for you."

His mom looks away to glance at the clock on the wall. "I haven't even started my shift yet, you goof."

With a laugh, he drops the papers in the _Intake_ box sitting on the low filing cabinets against the side of the wall. "Then what are you doing at your desk already? Sure as heck looks like you're working to me."

She sticks her tongue out at him and shakes her head. "If you think the computer out there is bad, this one isn't any better. It takes forever to start and load all my programs." Sighing, she leans back in her chair. "I'm going to rework the budget and see if we can't get us some fancy new iMac or something."

"Charlie will stage a revolution if you get us Apple computers." Dean snorts a laugh and heads around the side of her desk to give her a kiss on the top of her head. "She's one of those people who demand a PC or demand death."

Mom leans her head back and frowns at him from upside down. "What about that tablet thingy of hers? Isn't that an iPad?"

He puts a finger to his lips, but it doesn't do shit to hide his smile. To be honest, he actually doesn't know. Charlie doesn't let anyone touch it and Dean can't remember the last time he's seen the screen on it. She hardly lets it out of her bedroom to start with. How many pieces of tech does she have anyways? A tablet, a laptop, a desktop computer, and some cell phone that's bigger than her hand.

"I love that girl like my own daughter, but she is _so_ weird." Mom sighs and shakes her head. "God love her, though."

She pauses for a couple heartbeats before she rotates her chair a little to face Dean better. "Sweetheart, since you came all this way to visit me, can I get you to do me a favour? Since I'm sure that you love me _so much_ , right?"

He knew from the moment she used _sweetheart_ that she was heading in that direction. Dean sighs and puts a hand on the back of her chair to turn her back towards the computer. "Yeah, yeah. Don't try and sweet talk me. What do you want?"

Mom actually _giggles_ and reaches back to pat his hand. "Would you be a dear and go get me some coffee when you're done your shift?"

Of course she would ask that. And of _course_ just the mention of coffee would make his heart start dancing a little samba in his chest. That word is starting to become _really_ associated to a certain blue eyed barista he knows.

Dean swallows slightly, just a little tick in this throat, and smiles. "You mean from Trick or Treat, don't you?" Seriously, where else would she mean? It's not like mom actually _drinks_ the kitchen sludge.

Mom pats his hand and looks back at him with a smile again. "Yes, please!"

"Fine, fine." He gives her shoulders a squeeze before heading to the door. "You want the usual or do you want to go fancy today?"

"Actually, let me give you a list. I know the day shift is going to want something and I know all their favourites." She sits forward and drags a notepad over in front of her. "I'll give you my credit card and just put it all on that."

Goddamn. Day shift is so lucky. He doesn't get _his_ coffee covered by his mom. Dean huffs in amusement at his own thoughts because that's bullshit. He can't even keep track of how often his parents buy him shit and leave it for him for his shifts, or make him care packages that they drop off at his house. He's walking the fine line of being spoiled and not. His dad has some military background and he made sure that his boys were raised knowing that nothing gets done for them in this world.

"Hey, is Sam working today?" Dean leans his hip against the front of her desk, waiting for the list. He still hasn’t seen Sam actually _working_ yet and it's killing him that he hasn't had the chance to tease the shit out of his baby brother the _barista_.

Mom doesn't even look up from her notepad. "Not today, no. Last week was nothing but training and this week they have him started on his steady shift." She pauses to tap her pen on the paper. "I think he works – hm, what was it? Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the weekend. He gets three days off a week for now, more or less."

Lucky bastard. "Well, that's cool, I guess." Dean shrugs and drums his fingers on his arm. Looks like he's going to have to make time tomorrow to go during the day and give Sam both barrels of what it's like to have a family member as a _customer_.

With a laugh, Mom tears the paper off her notepad and hands it over along with her credit card. "Here you go, baby. Go bring us our caffeine fix, please."

"I'm on it!" He salutes her, adds a wink at the end, and ducks out of the office before she asks him to do anything else.

Dean glances at the list and he's not ashamed to say that his jaw drops a little bit. There's gotta be like seven different coffees on there, and some of them are way more complicated than they need to be. That aside, there's also a request for a box of whatever treat is the freshest – be it croissants, cinnamon buns, biscuits, or whatever. Jesus, she's going all out. Well, damn. Dean's going to order himself a treat too as his payment for doing this. No point in getting himself a coffee since he’s just going to be going home to sleep soon.

After changing out of his bunkers, Dean heads on over to the café. He makes it halfway there before he remembers the crane. _Shit_. Is that brunette from the other day in? God, he hopes not. The last thing he wants is to be recognized right now. What if Cas is still awake and he’s downstairs or something? Did he even accept the crane? Did – Shit, what was her name – Did Tessa even give it to him? Fuck, what if she _said_ something? Is it too late to get someone else to go get the stuff?

No, _no_. He can do this. Dean is a big brave firefighter. He can fucking _do this_. It’s just a café and that’s all. If he _acts_ like he’s got something to hide, everyone there is going to know that he did something secretive. And if everyone working there already knows that Cas was left a gift from a secret admirer, then they might jump to conclusions and be _right_ about it. He won’t confirm shit, but he’s a crappy actor and God knows what’ll show on his face when they accuse him of leaving the crane.

It takes a few deep breaths before he can make himself push open the café door. He ducks inside, doing his best not to look suspicious or bring too much attention to himself. That’s easy enough, considering how many people are actually inside right now. It’s just after eight in the morning and the only person working the counter is the bread maker, Balthazar. He’s pouring coffee after coffee and hurrying back and forth from the display case to the cash register, working diligently.

This is actually the first time Dean has ever seen him look so serious. He’s got the charming smile and wicked wit that keeps the customers happy, but he’s not goofing off and that’s actually surprising. Dean steps into place behind the two people already waiting in line at the counter. Three of the tables in the place already have a handful of people sitting at them and Dean checks them out to see if he knows anyone, just because he can. A couple faces are familiar, but he can’t put names to them.

He makes a show of looking around the place, checking it out like he’s never been there before. Mostly, he’s checking the cranes to see if he can spot his own. It’s a fucking slim chance that Cas would have hung up his crane along with the rest, but it can’t hurt to check any. Dean’s not even disappointed when he doesn’t see it. The only disappointing thing would be if he found out that the crane went into the trash. It would be a goddamn miracle if Cas actually _kept_ it.

Dean has to fight himself not to turn around and run when Gabriel walks in the from the kitchen carrying a fresh tray of cinnamon bun over his shoulders. Those fresh baked buns smell _amazing_. Everyone in the place takes a deep breath at it because _damn_ those smell good. Gabriel downright _beams_ when everyone basically start salivating over his baking. He looks around the room and smiles at each person in line while he puts the tray in the display case.

When their eyes meet, Dean feels his blood run cold. Oh God. Oh no. Okay, he can do this. He can _do_ this. Cas’s big brother only ever met him once. What are the chances that good ol’ Gabe would remember who he is? They’re probably _really_ slim, right? Well, all he can do is keep his fingers crossed and hope _really_ hard that he doesn’t –

“Hey you.”

Shit. Well, there go _those_ hopes. “Uh, yeah?”

The grin that spreads across Gabriel’s face is downright terrifying. “You’re the internet boy, aren’t you? The guy from last week.”

Dean ducks his head. “Yeah, but I usually go by Dean.”

“I _told_ you, he’s a _firefighter_.” Balthazar elbows Gabriel out of the way as he shuffles by to get to the cinnamon buns. Looks like the person at the head of the line just bought one.

While that might be true, Dean is totally more than that. Cas might’ve figured out the connection between him and Sam, but does Gabriel know too? “For your information, I’m also Sam’s big brother.” He tilts his head to give Gabriel a nod. “Thanks for hiring him, by the way.”

Gabriel waves his hand to acknowledge that, but he doesn’t talk about it. Instead, he gives Dean the evil eye, staring him down. “Since you’re a firefighter, you know all about safety codes and shit, right?”

Now that’s just downright _suspicious_. Dean is getting a sinking feeling in his stomach and if he wasn’t here because his mom asked him to be, he’d be out that door in a heartbeat. “Um – yeah?”

“Do I need some kind of permit to hold a party in my own building?”

Hold on. What? All of Dean’s suspicion turns straight to curiosity. “A party?”

“Yes, a _party_.” Gabriel sighs and rolls his eyes. Clearly he thinks Dean is an incompetent now. “I want to hold a party on Halloween night.”

Oh sweet! Dean perks up slightly, rocking on his feet. “Are you going to charge cover for it?”

Gabriel shrugs and taps his chin, like he’s thinking oh so hard about this. “I don’t know. Probably not. I was thinking more like good music, ordering in a bunch of pizzas, putting out some Halloween prices, and slashing the prices on our drinks.”

This is sound more and more interesting by the moment. Dean raises his eyebrows. “Do you have a license to sell booze?”

With a laugh, he shakes his head. “Nah. We just sell coffee and coffee alternatives. If anyone wants alcohol, they can bring their own.”

Well that doesn’t sound like much of a party. Actually, no, never mind. That sounds exactly like the same kind of party that Dean would throw himself. Minus the baking of course. Everyone always brings their own booze to any of the parties that he hosts. Okay, but that wasn’t the point of this. Gabe was asking about safety codes for hosting a party in a business place.

“I can’t say for sure if there’s anything illegal about having a party here, but I think it’ll be fine if you don’t go over the max occupancy for the place.” Dean shrugs and glances around. It’s not _that_ big, but he knows there’s a terrace upstairs they could use. “Anything more than that would be a safety hazard.”

Balthazar shoos Gabriel out of the way again as he helps the next person in line right before Dean. “What do you want to hold a party for? It’s just going to make a mess.”

“ _Exposure_ , buddy, keep up!” He laughs and slaps Balthazar on the back, nearly making him drop the cinnamon bun he just boxed up. “If I host a party, it won’t just be customers coming. It’ll be friends of friends, and family too.

“You’re already on Main Street.” Balthazar shoots Gabriel a dark look and shakes his head. “How much more exposure can you get?”

That gets him a glare right back. “Shut up, or I’m not going to invite you.”

The look does nothing to Balthazar. He doesn’t give a shit and just rolls his eyes, returning to the customer. His Pixie-like wings are lifting and twitching like crazy though, and Dean really wishes he knew what Fae body language meant. Either Balthazar is annoyed, or he’s excited, or – or it could be just about anything. Dean really honestly doesn’t know.

Hey, wait a goddamn second. A party on Halloween night would probably go well past eleven o’clock. That’s when Gabriel’s _Trick or Treat_ becomes Cas’s _The Graveyard Shift_. Dean knows this now because he got Sam to fucking explain it all after that stupid bullshit he pulled with all his secrets. But the party would be going into _Cas’s_ time, and that’s a bit of a problem.

Dean flaps a hand at Gabriel to get his attention. “Oi, hey. Have you asked Cas yet about this?”

Because if this is a spur of the moment kind of thing and he hasn’t gotten permission yet, then that’s just not going to be fair to Cas at all. But it’s not like Cas has mentioned anything about the party to him – not that it would come up in normal conversation or anything. Though, really, Dean would hope that Cas would mention a party. Because that would mean that he would _want_ Dean to be there, right?

Gabriel gives Dean a look that’s full of raised eyebrows and some kind of intrigue. He looks Dean over from head to toe and quirks a little smile that makes Dean’s ribs close tight around his lungs. The worst thing is that Balthazar gives him the same kind of look. It’s all Dean can do not to shift uncomfortably under those looks.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I was just asking.”

“Hmmm.” With a hum, Gabriel leans his elbows on the counter. “No, Cas doesn’t know. I just thought it up right now.” He brings a hand up and rest his chin on it. “I’ll ask him about it later this evening when he wakes up.”

It’s Dean’s turn at the counter and he hands over the paper with his mom’s order. Before he can say anything, Balthazar leans forward too. “You’re _awfully_ familiar with our night time boss there, Mr. Fireman.” His wings are up and shivering again, and it’s giving Dean a really bad feeling. Nothing good can come from being a source of amusement for a Fae.

A cold sweat breaks out along his back and Dean shrugs. “Cas is a cool guy and we always talk a bit whenever I come in.”

Why that earns him a double squinty look from the both of them, he’ll never know. But Dean would really like to get the heat off of him now. He clears his throat and gestures at the paper Balthazar has pinned under his hand. That seems to remind him that not only are there people waiting behind Dean, but there’s an order to fill out too. With a sigh, Balthazar look at the paper and then actually groans.

He drops his head back and holds the paper out to Gabriel. “Get the sweets. I’ll take care of the coffees. God knows you can’t make a decent one to save your hide.”

“Watch it. I’m your friend, but I’m still your _boss_.” Gabriel snatches the paper from him with a huff and starts boxing up what looks like half the stuff in the display case.

“If you were _really_ my boss, you’d hire us some more staff so I never have to work the front again.” Balthazar sticks his tongue out at him while he starts pouring the coffee.

Gabriel shakes his head. “No, we don’t. We’re doing just fine.”

Dean bites his tongue and stuffs his hands in his pockets, because this is a pretty interesting show to watch. These two squabble like they’re an old married couple. This is definitely better than sitting around being the butt of their jokes or pinned under some mean looking stares.

Balthazar sighs and starts putting the drinks in trays. “Get more morning staff, at least.”

“Nope, sorry. Can’t do that.” Gabe shakes his head and puts the box of treats down on the counter. “We can’t afford it, remember? I’m here if it gets busy.”

“You’re useless to me.”

There’s a lull where they glare at each other. It doesn’t last for long before Gabriel shakes his head and turns away. “So, if I throw this party, are you going to be coming to it?”

Hold on. Is that question being asked to Dean? He hesitates to answer, but Balthazar doesn’t. “I might. If it fits my schedule.”

“I was asking the firefighter, not you.”

Oh shit. Dean shrugs and looks away. “I dunno, maybe. If it fits my schedule, y’know.” He’s not even sure if he’s going to be working or not.

That leering look creeps over Gabriel’s face again. It gives Dean chills. “Well, if I get Cassie’s permission. He’s gonna be there, y’know.” He even wiggles his eyebrows, and that can’t mean good things.

“I’ll think about it.” Dean keeps his eyes on the card machine’s keypad while he makes the payment for the order. He refuses to look up and he definitely won’t say anything else because holy shit something is not kosher right now.

Behind his ribs, Dean’s heart is doing all manner of back flips. It’s going to give him some wicked heartburn if it continues. The big question is, why in the _hell_ would Gabriel think that Cas being at the party would be something to lure Dean into attendance? Better yet, why the hell are the two of them looking at Dean so _expectantly_? Holy shit. Do they – do they _know_ something? Do they know about the crane? Do they know that _he_ left it?

Welp. That about seals the deal. Fuck getting himself a treat or anything else. It’s time to get the fuck out of here now that he’s got his mom’s order. Dean’s paranoia is climbing through the goddamn roof and he can’t make excuses quick enough to get the hell out of dodge. Sure, he’s basically running away with his tail between his legs, but it’s better than standing here and speculating about what’s going through both their minds.

There’s an uneasy feeling sitting heavy in Dean’s belly. This is seriously bad for his heart and maybe, just maybe, Dean should take a break from this place for now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

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_ _

**_Saturday – October 17 th, 2015_ **

In the month since they opened, Castiel has become _very_ skilled in the art of balancing several dishes in his arms. He can make it all the way from the dishwasher in the kitchen to the front of the café with two trays of mugs and barely rattle a single one of them. It’s quite the feat, he’d like to believe. Especially since he never had to do it before they opened the café. Technically speaking, he doesn’t need to do it now either. He could just as easily make multiple trips, but where’s the fun in that?

Another thing Castiel has become absolutely spectacular at doing is organizing mug shelves. They sit so nicely together and he likes the way they look when he hangs a dozen of them from the hooks under the shelf too. Everything just looks so _perfect_ , and the simple designs of the mugs themselves are divine. Castiel likes the things in his life to be as simple as they can be, considering how _complicated_ his past is. As of late, things haven’t been as simple as he would like them to be.

By evening tonight, it will have been exactly one week since he was given the crane. Will he be getting another one or was that a onetime gift? He’s going to have to check with Tessa or Kevin after he wakes up. It’s not like he’s _anticipating_ getting another one, but he honestly can’t decide if he’s hoping for one or not. This is a very complicated subject for him and it’s been dwelling at the back of his mind all week. For one, he never considered the possibility that it might have been left by an employee. _Or_ that the secret admirer could be a woman. It’s such a romantic gesture, according to Tessa, that it very well could be. He doesn’t want to gender stereotype, but – well, Castiel doesn’t exactly know Montpelier’s take on gender roles.

This is really not what he wanted to spend his night thinking about, but not even the soothing background music he has playing tonight is enough to distract him. It’s a playlist that he found online while searching to put on the iPod they use to pipe music into the café. Gabriel likes to use the radio during the day so he keeps up to date on news as well, but Castiel would rather use soundtracks and playlists. He spent _weeks_ compiling an extensive playlist for his shifts and in a month he hasn’t even made it all the way through it. 

While music might not be much to distract him, the chime over the door does wonders. Castiel looks over, ready to put down his dray of mugs to help a customer. Unfortunately, that ends up not being necessary. Balthazar gives him a jaunty wave as he strolls into the café, his wings folded down and flat against his back. Good, that means he’s not up to any sort of mischief at the moment.

“Good morning, Cassie!”

He rolls his eyes and turns back to the mugs. “Hello, Balthazar.” It’s one o’clock and Castiel would hardly consider it to be part of the _morning_ yet.

“What’s new in the world of the Novaks?” Balthazar heads around the counter and immediately goes to pour himself a coffee right into his truly massive travel mug. “What did I miss yesterday?”

Oh, that’s a good marketing idea! Instead of answering Balthazar, Castiel makes stops putting away the coffee mugs long enough to scribble himself a note to look into selling travel mugs with the logo for both _The Graveyard Shift_ and _Trick or Treat_ on it. They’ll have to wait until they can afford to have those manufactured, but that would be a good idea.

A presence at his shoulder notifies him that Balthazar is invading his personal space to read over his shoulder. He steps back with a grin and his wings lift to start fluttering slightly. “Aw, am I your _muse_ , Cassie? I’m flattered.”

Castiel gives him a flat look as he sticks the note to the cash register to take upstairs later. “Don’t be, and there is nothing new with Gabriel or myself. How was the –” Oh no. Why did Balthazar need yesterday off again?

“You wound me. How could you forget that I was gone for my cousin’s _wedding_.” Balthazar puts a hand to his chest and his whole body starts to droop. “And how come no one ever wants me to be their muse? I’m _very_ muse-genic.”

“That’s not a word, and I’m sorry for forgetting.” He makes a shooing motion to try and get Balthazar to head off to the kitchen where he belongs. “Don’t you have dough to start making?”

That only compounds Balthazar’s pout, pushing it to truly ridiculous proportions. He sniffs and stands up properly again, straightening his shoulders. “Careful, Cassie. If you push my buttons the wrong way, I might just accidentally blurt out certain _things_.”

And there’s the confirmation Castiel never needed to know that Gabriel absolutely told Balthazar all about who it was that left the crane last Saturday. With a sigh, he turns back to his mugs. “If you push my buttons the wrong way, I might just accidentally _fire you_.”

“I love it when you get bossy with me.”

Castiel shakes his head and picks up his tray of mugs. If he doesn’t reply, Balthazar will get bored and leave. Or he’ll head to the back when a customer comes in, as proven when the door chime goes off again. Balthazar retreats rather quickly the moment the door opens, ducking away into the kitchen before he might be punished by being forced to deal with the bane of any employee – the dreaded _customer_. Balthazar’s words, not Castiel’s.

He puts down the mugs yet again and turns find a customer struggling to make it through the door with his arms full of binders and an overstuffed satchel bag bouncing against his hip. On top of that, he also has a backpack that looks like it’s on the verge of ripping at the seams. His hair is wild, his cheeks full of days’ old stubble, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He looks over at Castiel briefly, long enough for him to nod in greeting, but the customer barely gives him more than a glance before he turns away.

The customer stands in the doorway for a moment, looking the café over. Eventually, he nods his satisfaction and makes his way over to the corner by the bookcase next to the stairs. He dumps his binders on top of that table and sets to dragging a second table over as well. Castiel stands at the cash register and watches as the customer proceeds to rest his backpack on one chair and hang his coat over another. He proceeds to unpack his laptop and set it up in the middle of the table. There’s even a mouse to go with it. Clearly he’s settling down to spend a decent amount of time here.

Once he has everything set out satisfactorily, he stretches his hands above his head and turns around. It looks like he’s finally going to make his way to the counter and Castiel puts a hand on the cash register in preparation. He’s never seen this customer before, which means he needs to be _extra_ nice. If Castiel’s customer service is excellent, maybe he can convince this one to come back more often and spend his hours here, buying their coffee.

With a loud yawn, the customer comes to a stop and squints at the menu boards. “How late are you guys open until/”

“We never close.” Castiel tilts his head and fixes a smile. “I run _The Graveyard Shift_ at night and my brother runs _Trick or Treat_ in the morning. It’s the same café, same coffee, but different names.”

The customer turns to give him the look of a man who hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. “Couldn’t agree on a name, huh?”

“Exactly.” He nods in agreement, pleased that he didn’t have to explain that. It’s amazing how many people don’t get that right from the first bit of the explanation.

“Perfect.” The customer yawns again and scratches at the back of his head. “If your coffee is good, I might be one of your most loyal customers.”

Castiel isn’t exactly sure why that makes Dean come to mind, but he discards that thought. Along with every other firefighter who comes in throughout the week. “We would be happy to have you. What can I help you with tonight?”

“Load me up with coffee and keep it coming.” He sighs and starts rummaging through his pockets for his wallet. “All I need is straight black. The stronger, the better. I’ve got a deadline to meet.”

Instead of typing it in, Castiel continues to rest his hand on the keypad. “Do you have classes to study for?” He’s been told that university classes can be very difficult and require _hours_ of studying and hard work on assignments.

The customer shakes his head with a laugh. “I wish. No, this is for a _manuscript_.”

Oh, how interesting! Castiel leans forward slightly, excitement starting to stir in his chest. “Are you a writer?” Maybe he’s read some of his writing. If he has one of his books, what are the chances that he could get it signed?

With a loud sigh, the customer nods. “God knows why, but yes, I am.”

Castiel is now doubly interested in having this man as a repeat customer. “Would you like to start running a tab for your coffee?” He’s never done that before, but it would likely be better for someone who is going to be drinking a lot of it. And if he gives that kind of excellent service, perhaps the customer might decide to keep coming back.

“Really?” The customer lifts his head in surprise and pulls his hands out of his pockets, wallet free. “You don’t want me to pay up front?”

“If you would like to run a tab, you can.” He nods and pushes the button on the register to eject the cash drawer. While he hasn’t ever done this before, he knows enough not to just leave an opening for the customer to leave when no one is looking with all his free coffee in his belly. “All I require is that you leave something of import with me. A license or piece of ID is acceptable.”

Nodding, the customer pulls his wallet out and hands over a driver’s license. Castiel glances at it to get his name. “Thank you, Chuck.” Darn, Chuck Shurley is not a name that he immediately recognizes. “If you need anything, I’ll be right here and my name is Castiel.”

He puts the driver’s license in the drawer and moves over to get a mug and pour some coffee. The last thing he expects is for Chuck to start laughing. Castiel pauses and turns. “Is something funny?” There have been plenty of people who have found his name unique enough to be amusing, but no one has ever outright _laughed_ at it before.

Chuck shakes his head and fixes Castiel with a wry smile. “Let me guess. You recognized me from the back of my books, hm?”

Okay, now Castiel is just confused. Is the laughter completely unrelated to his name then? Either that or this is one of those situations he’s read about where someone famous gets uppity when someone doesn’t recognize them or treat them as the celebrity they perceive themselves to be. He _really_ hopes that isn’t the case, because he is _not_ prepared for a situation like that.

Bracing himself for the worst, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I’m sorry, but I also don’t recall ever reading anything written by the name of _Chuck Shurley_.”

“Actually, I write under the name _Carver Edlund_.” Chuck puffs up slightly, full of pride.

Well, that changes everything. Except for a one thing. “The name sounds familiar, but I’m fairly certain that I haven’t read any of your books yet. What genre do you write?”

Rather than answer his question, Chuck’s expression falls into confusion. He glances around the café, eyes narrowing slightly. “Is this some kind of prank? You just said your name was –”

“Castiel Novak.” He nods, sure in his name, and gestures over his shoulder at the certificates mounted on the wall behind him. If there’s any doubt, the certificates will prove his truth. They all have his name and Gabriel’s written on them. “Owner and operator of _The Graveyard Shift_ and _Trick or Treat_.”

Chuck leans over to one side to start squinting at the certificates. He even rises up on his tiptoes to get a better look at them. “Seriously?”

“Yes?” And yet, Chuck continues staring at him. “Is – is something wrong?”

“I – well, um –” The skepticism is clear enough that even Castiel can see it. “Okay, so, I write a series called Supernatural, right? In it there’s this angel and he’s – uh – he’s named _Castiel_ and he took on the body of a guy named Jimmy _Novak_. This is just – seriously? Castiel _and_ Novak?” He makes a gesture with both hands, bringing them together slightly.

Any vague amusement Castiel might have had at this situation dries up in a flash. A light feeling fills his limbs, like his blood is starting to race too fast for his heart to keep up. He licks his lips and forces his body to move in a shrug. “That’s – that’s quite an eerie coincidence, but my parents got the name _Castiel_ from biblical scriptures.”

“This is just – I mean, it’s a _hell_ of a coincidence.” Chuck licks his lips and looks around again. “Like, okay. You have dark hair, blue eyes, and stubble? That’s the perfect picture of Jimmy Novak – and the Castiel from my Supernatural books.”

It is _very_ hard for him to maintain a calm and cool exterior right now, but Castiel does his absolute best. “Yes, that is quite the coincidence.” He forces a smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face – like it’s too stiff. “But I am not the only man in the world with that combination of characteristics. I’m also not an Angel.” As if that needed to be said. That species has been extinct for centuries.

Chuck looks him up and down, and an excited light fills his eyes. It’s the same look that everyone gets when they realize that he isn’t Human. “What _are_ you, exactly?”

“ _Not_ a Human.” And he refuses to expand upon that any further. Even _he_ knows that it’s not proper to simply ask something like that.

Colour fills Chuck’s face and he ducks his head. “Shit. I – Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s fine.” Castiel shrugs and turns back to pour the coffee. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t splash it everywhere, given how much his hands are shaking. He turns back and places it on the counter, foregoing the dragon this one time. “Here you go. When you’re ready for your second cup, just let me know and I’ll bring the pot over to you.”

That’s the kindest way he can bring about an end to the conversation. Thankfully, Chuck seems to get the picture. He mumbles his thanks and picks up the coffee. For a moment, he opens his mouth as if he were going to say anything else, but then he shuts it again. Without another word, Chuck slinks back to his joined tables to sit at his laptop.

Castiel takes a few long, deep breaths to try and calm himself. It’s difficult when it feels like he was just picked up, turned upside down, and shaken violently. His mind is reeling and it’s taking everything in his power not to sit down where he stands.

This coincidence is unreal. It’s too – too _impossible_. There must be a reason for why Chuck’s characters have the same names as he does. Castiel could be a coincidence, given that it really is the name of an angel and can be found on most lists about them. But _Jimmy_ Novak? As in _James_ Novak? That is just entirely too unsettling. There are very few people alive right now who know that Castiel’s name at birth was _James_. And of those that do know, two are in this building and the rest work for the Government.

When they were picking their new names all those years ago, Gabriel was the one who brought forth Castiel, Novak, _and_ Gabriel. Not once has Castiel ever asked where he got them from. He was thirteen at the time and had just lost his parents, his home, and his entire life. It didn’t help that he was also taken from everything he knows and flown all the way across the country to _Florida_ , where he was supposed to spend the next ten years of his life in hiding. At that point, Castiel was liable to agree to pretty much anything, and he’s lucky that he ended up with a name that he actually likes.

Since Gabriel was the one who picked the names, Castiel is absolutely going to have to talk to him. Maybe – just _maybe_ he reads Supernatural? If he knows the works of Carver Edlund, it’s possible that he got Castiel and their new last name from it too. Maybe he just thought they were interesting and that they should go with it because the character’s name was James?

While that might be the most logical progression of thought, Castiel can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. What if there’s more to Chuck Shurley than meets the eye? What if – and this could be entirely wrong – but what if he isn’t who he says he is? There’s every possibility that this is no coincidence. Because in all honesty, what are the actual chances that the names of Carver Edlund’s characters are all names that Castiel has carried himself?

The only saving grace that his has right now – the only thing keeping him from running out the door, is that the crystal ball on the shelf behind him isn’t reacting. The crystal hanging around his neck is equally unresponsive. If Chuck Shurley was a Witch and out to get him, the crystals would have started reacting long before he got through the front door. They would have gone off the moment Chuck set foot in town and, considering how he mentioned that he might be a future loyal customer, Castiel has reason to believe that he’s been in this town for longer than one night.

But there’s so much wrong with this. _So much_. There are too many unknowns and – and everything. Castiel’s mind won’t stop turning over every aspect. He keeps coming back to the names and the coincidence and just how absolutely _impossible_ this is. The chances of it all are just – the chances are so slim that they should be downright non-existent. He just can’t believe it and it’s. And the worst part is just how much this is starting to get to him.

Castiel’s hands are shaking as he ducks into the kitchen and he hugs himself tightly to hide them under his arms. “Balthazar, I need you to take a break from the bread and cover the front.”

Balthazar looks up in confusion. “What?”

He shakes his head and starts for the stairs. “Customer at a table. Running tab. Black coffee. License in cash drawer. I’ll be back.” Everything is quick and to the point so he can go upstairs as quickly as he can, going up them to at a time without waiting for Balthazar’s answer.

The first thing Castiel does is go to his bedroom and get the cat. He lifts Nike from the bed and cradles her tightly in his arms. She starts squirming almost immediately and protesting loudly, but Castiel keeps her pinned to his chest and goes straight for Gabriel’s bedroom. The moment he’s inside, he slams the door and leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. Nike squirms, but she doesn’t exactly try to escape as he presses his face into her soft side. It makes his glasses press painfully into his face, but he really doesn’t care about that right now.

It’s only a matter of seconds before the light flicks on. “Cassie? What are you doing?”

What he is doing is trying to stave off the onset of hyperventilation. Nike meows unhappily after every shuddering breath and Castiel has the distinct impression that she is not enjoying how she is being held. If he could make his body listen to him properly, he would lower his knees and let her sit in his lap properly. But he needs this. He needs her soft fur in his arms and the comfort of having her close.

“ _Castiel_.” Gabriel is out of his bed in an instant. He crouches in front of him and puts both hands on his shoulders. “Castiel, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Answer me.”

How can he answer him when he can barely breathe? Castiel’s whole body trembles with every breath and all he can do is shake his head slowly. Eventually, Gabriel is the one who has to guide his head up until he can see his face. He even pulls Castiel’s glasses off and sets them aside. With gentle hands, Gabriel pets his hair and makes soft hushing noises until a calm finally starts to set in. Of course, Castiel doesn’t miss how he pauses to grip the crystal he wears too.

“That’s it.” Gabriel fixes him with a bright, cheerful smile. “That’s the way to do it. Keeping breathing and when you’re ready, tell me what happened.”

Castiel takes a while to do it, but he eventually manages to relate in bits and pieces exactly why he feels like he’s shaking on Gabriel’s bedroom floor. Even though he’s ready to grab a bag and leave at any moment, he really doesn’t want to. He _likes_ the café and the town and everything about being here. If he absolutely had to – if the crystals were reacting and he was _positive_ that Chuck was a Witch, then nothing would stop him from grabbing Nike and Gabriel and running without looking back. But if this is just a false alarm, then all this _fear_ building up in his bones is utterly pointless.

Once his broken story comes to the end, Gabriel doesn’t look nearly as freaked out as Castiel would have expected. At least he does have a narrow eyed suspicious look to him. With a sigh, he gets to his feet and heads to his closet. Castiel can feel his stomach sink when he pulls out his emergency bag. That sensation stops the moment Gabriel drops it on his bed and takes a single book from it. He’s not even remotely as voracious a reader as Castiel is, so it’s a little surprising to see that he keeps a book in that bag in particular.

“You might not remember this because you were only ten years old when the first books started coming out, but Mom was really into these.” He crouches in front of Castiel again and holds out the book, revealing a copy of _Supernatural_. “She bought every book as it came out and used to tell me all about it. Hell, these were practically my bedtime stories.”

Slowly, Castiel lowers his legs and crosses them. Nike settles more comfortably in his lap and complains far less once he starts stress-petting her instead of stress-cuddling her. This is actually a huge relief. Did one of his attempts at rationalizing the situation come true? This is looking more and more like it really _was_ just a ridiculous coincidence. The chances of the author of those books walking into their café were infinitesimal, but they still _existed_. No matter how small, the possibility was still there.

Gabriel holds the book open in his hands and flips through it. “When we went into the witness protection program, one of the first things I did was go out and pick up a bunch of books to help you calm down after the – uh – _accident_?” He turns the book around to show Castiel one of the pages. “I found this one at the junk store and bought it to remember Mom by. It’s the only book from the series that I actually read.”

Right there on the page, Castiel can see the words describing how Castiel the Angel convinced Jimmy Novak to let him take over his body. His hands aren’t shaking nearly as badly when he takes the book to read the passages. “So you – you really did get our names from this book?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually _go_ for them.” He laughs and drops his hand to give Nike a few pats. “You’re just lucky they didn’t suck. Otherwise I would’ve named us Wade and Sam Wilson.”

Something isn’t sitting right with him about this. Castiel closes the book with a snap and turns a frown on his brother. “But you said that our names were because of our parents. You said our mother liked the name _Castiel_ because she was born on a Thursday and that was the name of her Guardian Angel.” Castiel narrows his eyes further in an unhappy squint. “ _And_ you said that if our father had been your biological father, he would have named you Gabriel because of what an important part he played telling Mary about being pregnant with the baby Jesus.”

“Dad _did_ say that.” Gabriel sits back on his heels with a wide smile. “And Mom liked the name Castiel because of _these_ books. I’m pretty sure you made up that bit about her Guardian Angel bit on your own because I’ve never heard of it before.”

It feels like someone just replaced Castiel’s brain with clouds. He’s reeling and struggling to re-evaluate everything he knew about his life. How much has fabricated in his own head and how much has been truth? What else about their lives hasn’t Gabriel told him? Why has he never mentioned these books before? He should know how important that would be, given how paranoid they both are about being discovered by Witches – good or bad.

“Hey now, don’t give me that look.” Gabriel pats him on the leg a few time. He even stops to ruffle his hair. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I promise that I got our names from _these_ characters. There is nothing else shifty going on with where they came from.”

Okay. That’s good. Castiel takes a deep breath and nods slowly. He needs to trust Gabriel on this. If _he_ isn’t worried, than Castiel has no reason to be either. This is just a crazy random happenstance that, of all the cafés in the world, the author of these particular books had to walk into _theirs_.

Just to be on the safe side, Castiel makes a short gesture at the floor. “If what you say is true, then I shouldn’t be worried about the guy downstairs?”

“I doubt it, but let me go talk to him.” Gabriel takes the book back and stands up. “C’mon. Put the cat to bed and let’s settle this thing with Mister Writer-man.”

“You’re not going to go downstairs in your underwear, are you?” Chuck Shurley may have Castiel paranoid out of his mind right now, but he’s still a _customer_.

He pauses and looks down at himself. “Hm, good point. Go put the cat away and I’ll change.”

Castiel doesn’t have much say in this plan and he gets up to do just that. Nike makes an unhappy noise as Castiel puts her back down on the bed in his room. She follows him to the door and meows when he shuts it behind him. He hates locking her in his room like this, but he’ll come back and get her later on in the night when he’s done his checklist – if he can even manage it. If Castiel can’t calm down properly, he’s going to have to tell Balthazar to forget the bread for tonight and just cover the front for the rest of his shift. It’s not like they usually sell bread on the weekends anyways.

“C’mon, little brother.” Gabriel gives his shoulders a playful shove to get him going towards the stairs. “Let’s get a move on. You’re keeping me from my beauty sleep.”

Castiel brushes his hand away and takes a deep breath. He can do this. This isn’t something to be worried about. It was only a coincidence and nothing more than. He holds his head high as he heads back downstairs, Gabriel following close behind. It helps to have his big brother right there with him as he faces what could potentially – though very unlikely – be a situation from one of his worst nightmares.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel touches Castiel’s shoulder again. This time it’s to pull him to a stop. “You stay here in the kitchen. Let me go out there first.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer – not that he has one to give. Castiel is more than happy to stay half hidden behind the door and watch as Gabriel heads out into the front of the café in his slippers and pajamas. Balthazar gives him a baffled look, but that goes completely ignored. Gabriel crosses the whole café without a word, only to drop into one of the chairs opposite where Chuck is sitting.

“So.” Gabriel crosses his arms on the table, the book he had been carrying mysteriously gone. “I hear that you’re trying to make my little brother freak out.”

Chuck, already startled by Gabriel’s arrival, glances around the room. “Um – excuse me?”

“Castiel.” He shrugs, but his expression hasn’t changed a bit. “You’re freaking him out with your whole thing about your books and our names. Oh, I’m Gabriel, by the way.”

Even from behind, Castiel can tell the exact moment when understanding fills Chuck’s face. His whole body straightens at it. “Oh! I’m – I didn’t know. I mean, it just – it’s a coincidence?”

“Uh huh.” Gabriel nods slowly, one eyebrow cocking upward. He’s acting like he doesn’t believe it – or he’s pretending he doesn’t, at least.

Chuck ducks his head, making himself look smaller in his chair. “I really – I didn’t mean to. This –” He sighs loud enough to be heard all the way in the kitchen and his shoulders slump even more. “This actually happens more often than I would like.”

“Enlighten me on the plight of an author.” Gabriel makes a sweeping gesture and sits back in his seat to cross his arms. “I’m all ears.”

“Well – uh –” Chuck shrugs and scratches at the back of his neck. “I usually take the names of my characters from dreams, y’know? Sometimes I use them like that and – um – Well, sometimes I mix them up. All my characters in Supernatural, those names were from –” He shrugs again and makes a vague gesture. “From my dreams. I even base the character designs off who I see in my dreams. I’ve always done that and I’m – I really didn’t mean to upset your brother.”

Gabriel continues staring him down for a few moments before glancing back towards the kitchen. He meets Castiel’s eyes, as if he’s asking for his approval. Castiel honestly doesn’t know what to think. To be quite honest, he doesn’t have a clue. This just sounds so entirely unbelievable to him. Are they supposed to believe that this stranger got names for his characters from a dream and it just so happens that they took those names and he eventually came to their café?

No one expects Balthazar to clear this throat and step into their line of sight. He waves a hand back and forth to get their attention. “If I may interject for a moment?”

Chuck turns in his chair and looks him up and down. “Who are you?”

“Balthazar; employee extraordinaire.” He does a little curtsy and flares his wings. “I’d just like to add my two cents to this as someone who _isn’t_ exceptionally paranoid like my employers here.”

They all notice when the colour drains from Chuck’s face and he ducks his head. “I – uh – I have another character named Balthazar. He’s an Angel too in – um – in my books.”

Now that is just _uncanny_. All three of them _plus_ Castiel’s last name?

Balthazar, however, doesn’t seem to be fazed by this. Instead his wings flutter as if he were excited. “As touched as I am to be included in your book, I have one thing to ask. What’s the history of your family like? Any Creatures or magic in your bloodline?”

Confusion fills Chuck’s face and he shakes his head slowly. “N-not that I know of.”

“You might want to look into that.” With a shrug, Balthazar turns away from the counter to start towards the kitchen. “I bet you’ll find something interesting in there.”

When he pushes the door open fully, Castiel grabs him by the arm. “What do you know that we don’t?” Is it possible that Fae can see more than they can?

“Nothing much.” Balthazar pats him on the shoulder and gives him a slight shove towards the door. “I just know that when people have dreams strong enough that they can remember names and faces from it, then they’ve likely got something a little _special_ in their blood.”

“Like what?” Castiel glances over his shoulder where Gabriel now has the book on the table and he’s apparently in the process of getting Chuck to sign it. “Are you saying he might have _Witch_ blood in him?”

With a snort, Balthazar shakes his head. “No, Witches need to perform extravagant rituals to get those kinds of _visions_. Unless he looks into his history a bit, our dear customer is never going to really know if he does or doesn’t have something special about him.”

Visions? There’s only one kind of people that Castiel knows of who routinely have visions outside of their control. But Seers went into hiding _ages_ ago. Their ability to see the past or the future whether by will or not was extremely desirable by governments and bodies of power around the world – including many unsavoury types of people. For their own protection, Seers disappeared from the world. Prophets; oracles; soothsayers; fortune tellers; everyone who claimed to have the ability to _See_. They vanished and no one has seen or heard of them since.

If it _is_ possible that some of that bloodline is in Chuck Shurley? If that were the case, wouldn’t he _know_? To Castiel, that feels like something very important that one would share with their children. Of course, he might think differently because he had no choice with being told about his bloodline. Visions are easy to hide. His wings and aversion to sunlight are a little more difficult than something that takes place entirely inside one’s own head.

Balthazar grins and gives Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s not bring any more attention to him than we already have, hm? If he looks into it or not, I’d still bet the house that in his dreams he saw _you_ and took his characters from that.” He laughs and his wings flutter along with it. “Isn’t that a hoot?”

Unless Chuck confesses to being a Seer, it’s possible that they’ll never know the answer for sure. What Castiel _does_ know is that he’s going to keep a very close eye on Chuck Shurley. If he gets wind of anything Witch related about him, then and only then will he consider it to be a matter of concern. For now – if Gabriel isn’t worried and if Balthazar has suspicions that Chuck is a Seer, than that more or less changes everything. For now.

“Thank you, Balthazar. That eases my mind.” Castiel offers a small smile in thanks, and immediately realizes his mistake. He holds up a hand just in time to catch Balthazar in the chest and keep him from getting any closer. “One thank you does not lift the ban on hugs.”

“Now you’re just being a spoil sport.”

With a quick step away, Castiel puts the whole of the doorway between them. “Go bake your bread.”

“One of these days, Cassie! If your brother doesn’t pull that stick out of your ass, then I will!” Balthazar even has the gall to shake a fist at him.

Castiel doesn’t hesitate to pull the door closed. He turns away with a huff. “There is nothing _in_ my ass.” And how dare anyone insinuate that he is anything but a joy to be around. For what he’s been through, they’re lucky that Castiel isn’t living in some remote lighthouse where he never has to speak to anyone for the rest of his lifetime.

“What’s in your where now?” And of course it’s the moment when he’s muttering something regarding his ass that Gabriel would choose to walk up. He always has had such a perfect sense of _timing_.

With a sigh, Castiel shakes his head and steps out of the way so Gabriel has full access to the door. “It’s nothing. If you feel that everything is settle with Mr. Shurley, then you’re welcome to head to bed now.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go. Don’t rush me.” He waves the hand with the book in it, but doesn’t move an inch. “Our dear customer the author would like you to know that he is _very_ sorry to have freaked you out and he understands if you want him to get the hell out before you get your panties in an every bigger twist than they are now.”

Of all people that Castiel would have expected to understand this supposed _freak out_ , Gabriel is the one and only person that list. The fact that he’s _teasing_ him about this is not helping matters in the slightest. With a customer present, the only thing Castiel is capable of doing right now is giving a thoroughly menacing look and pointing at the kitchen door.

“Thank you for your _input_ , but you can _go_ now.”

The wide grin painted across Gabriel’s face suddenly goes serious. He steps in to pull Castiel into a hug. Specifically it’s one that puts his mouth close to his ear. “I told him you thought he might be a stalker or something and he apologized _a lot_. Turns out he doesn’t leave his house a whole lot because shit like this happens kinda often.”

If that’s meant to be comforting, it falls short of that achievement. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“What I trust are my wards to go off if this guy had Witch level magic. And I trust Balthazar’s Fae instincts as much as I trust those. ” Gabriel steps back and even pats Castiel on the cheek. “I didn’t hire him _just_ for his baking skills, y’know?”

“In some version of this world, that might be considered a relief.” He rolls his eyes and gives Gabriel a shove to put some space between them. “That said, thank you for coming downstairs to help. I really do appreciate it.” He’ll have to make a big breakfast in the morning as a proper show of his sincerity.

Gabriel claps him on the shoulder again, using the book to do it. He drops his voice into a whisper again, even leaning in as he does it. “Don’t worry about it. Authors who are willing to pay out the ass for multiple cups of coffee throughout the night are like catching a _whale_ to the café business.”

And that is Gabriel speak for meaning that half of his motivation for this was motivated purely for monetary reasons. As part business owner in this venture, Castiel appreciates that at least someone is thinking about their bank balances at a moment like this. If he had been in charge, Castiel would have likely taken the cat, his bag, and his brother and ran from this place for good. They would have left behind their dreams and every investment they’ve put into this place – leaving behind nothing more than regrets.

“You can’t fault me being worried.” Castiel hisses and starts trying to herd Gabriel towards back into the kitchen. “If I recall correctly, _you’re_ the one who taught me to be wary of _everyone_.”

“Not _everyone_.” Gabriel gives him a shove back, verging on playful. “Just Witches. And that’s what _these_ are for.” He glances around for the chance of anyone paying attention to them before he pulls his necklace out of his shirt, even wiggling the crystal at him. “These puppies didn’t react to him, so he’s obviously not a Witch.”

Clearly Gabriel hasn’t thought this through to the extent that Castiel has. “Finding out our names could have been part of a coven’s spell and then they send someone with no magic to confirm that we’re the ones they’re really looking for.”

“Sure, it could have, but I doubt they would have gone to the trouble of finding the real Carver Edlund to do their dirty work.” With a snort, he turns the book over and shoves it against Castiel’s chest. Sure enough, there’s a picture of Chuck Shurley on the back cover. “See? I promise you, Cassie, if I got even so much as a bad vibe about him, he’d be toast and we’d be long gone.”

While these might still all be perfectly valid points, Castiel just can’t shake the jitters that are lying in wait in his bones. “Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to force himself to calm down. “I was just –”

“You were being cautions. Which is good.” Gabriel gives him a bright smile and reaches up to pat him on the top of his head. “If you had known the real situation behind our names, you probably wouldn’t have freaked out so badly. But now you do and we’re not going to have another incident like today, are we?”

Actually, now that he’s brought that up again. “You know, you _could_ have told me about all of this sooner. We would have avoided this whole mess if you –”

“Let me stop you there, Cassie.” He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “The whole reason I didn’t tell you – and you have no idea how much it disappoints me to learn that things didn’t happen this way – is that I was waiting for you to start reading the books yourself.” A wide grin has taking over his lips while speaking. “That freak out would have been _so good_.”

“You, dear brother, are an asshole.” That’s it. Castiel is going to have to kill him. It’s official.

Gabriel throws his head back with a laugh and choosing that exact moment to push the door open and step out of reach. “Love you too, baby brother! Try to keep it together for the rest of the night, okay?” He makes a quick gesture with his hand, like he’s flicking something down. Almost immediately, Castiel’s glasses drop from resting on top of his head to sitting off center on his nose. It’s a common occurrence for Gabriel to use unnecessary magic, and it irks Castiel every time he does.

“Get back to work, little bro. I’m going to bed.” With one last wink, Gabriel shuts the door between them and cuts off any chance Castiel has of making a witty parting remark.

Huffing to himself, Castiel fixes his glasses and glares at the door. He runs over every possible comment he could have made and the way the conversation _could_ have played out if Gabriel hadn’t effectively ran away. His mental battle of wits doesn’t last too long before Balthazar opens the door again and this time it’s with Nike in his hands.

“Here, take your feline.” He hands her over with a sigh before quickly wiping his hands on his apron. “Gabriel says she wouldn’t go back down for her beauty sleep, so she can spend the rest of the night down here now.”

“She would have gone back to sleep after a while.” Not that Castiel is complaining, of course. He’s happy to have her down here and he gives her a quick hug before putting her on the floor. “Thank you.”

Though that should be the end of it, Balthazar doesn’t return to work. Instead, he stares Castiel down with the single minded intensity that is _very_ disturbing when one is on the receiving end of it from a Fae. Castiel tries to return to putting away his mugs, but after a solid thirty seconds of staring, he knows there’s a storm of question hiding behind that pale, pointed façade.

“Out with it.”

“Is anyone going to fill me in on _why_ all this –” Balthazar waves his hand towards Chuck and then at Castiel himself. “– happened tonight? A full explanation would be _wonderful_.”

Despite being Gabriel’s best friend, there are some things even Balthazar is not allowed to know. Castiel shakes his head and reaches up to hang a mug from the bottom of the shelf. “No.”

“This is Fae discrimination!” He throws his hands up in the air with a huff. “I _never_ get let in on any fun.”

“Don’t lie.” Castiel shoots him a dirty look over his shoulder. “I am fully aware that Gabriel showed you the video about my secret admirer, and that means you likely know exactly who it is too.”

The way Balthazar’s wings start vibrating nearly lifts him from the ground. It certainly gets Nike’s attention and she stares as if transfixed, completely forgetting the odd piece of dust she had previously been stalking. Balthazar clasps his hands in front of his hearts and fixes Castiel with the kind of grin that sends a chill through his already thoroughly chilled bones. “And I take a truly _perverted_ amount of pleasure in knowing something you don’t.”

Castiel knows what happens now. If he gives any sort of attention to this beyond what he already has, then Balthazar is going to tease him mercilessly until he eventually ‘ _accidentally_ ’ slips up and spills the secret. The only way to get through this is to show that anyone else knowing doesn’t affect him in the slightest. As long as he shows no interest, he should be safe from the horrid storm of teasing that is sure to be brought down on him tonight.

With that in mind, Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. “Get back to the kitchen, Balthazar. The bread is calling your name.”

“You are absolutely _no_ fun, Cassie.” His wings wilt and he turns away with a loud huff.

The boom of the door shutting behind him is loud enough to make even Chuck jump in his seat. He turns around just as Nike skitters to hide behind Castiel’s legs, her tail nearly triple in size. She hisses and he apologizes to both her and Chuck before returning to work. There’s still plenty to clean and the last of the inventory to do before he can relax and do his origami again.

Once Chuck returns to his writing and the shock of the loud door has worn off, Nike rubs against Castiel’s ankles. She meows a few times before trotting off to once again examine the entire café from top to bottom. Hopefully she won’t cause Chuck any problems. Well, there _has_ been a sign up on the door warning about a café cat since the day Castiel decided that she would be coming down to join him every night. If Chuck didn’t stop to read it before coming in, then he’s the one to blame.

Thankfully, he doesn’t hear a peep from anyone – whether cat or customer – by the time he finishes his work. In fact, Castiel doesn’t see Nike again until he goes to refill Chuck’s coffee mug for the first time – though it takes a little breathing exercises and mental self-encouragement to get himself to do it _without_ a tremor in his hand.

They both look up at the sound of a soft _meow_ and there’s a shared moment of confusion when neither sees her immediately. Chuck is the first to spot her in the foliage on top of the bookshelf. She’s half hidden by the pot and peering at them through the hanging leaves of the fern.

For a long moment, the both of them stare at her and she stares back. Since the bookcase is about even with the floor of the landing at the top of the stairs, Castiel is more than confident that he won’t have to save her from on top of this particular monolith. He does, however, hope that she won’t get any bright ideas about attacking the paper dragons tied to some of the plants. Or, God forbid, she won’t consider knocking any plants down. So far, she’s been fairly well behaved, but it’s only a matter of time before she exhibits the same feline behaviour as the cats Castiel sees on the internet.

He watches her for longer than Chuck does, and she doesn’t move once. When he steps away from the table, set on marking down the second cup of coffee on his tracking sheet, Nike’s ears perk slightly. After a few more steps, her attention turns from him to the plant she’s using as her cover. She gives it a good few sniffs before losing all interest in it. Nike flops onto her side with a yawn and surveys her café kingdom with half closed eyes.

Well, as long as she’s not causing any trouble, Castiel is happy. He makes another tally mark on his note beside the cash register and returns to the last of his little chores. There aren’t many left and then he’ll be able to get the stool and enjoy some origami. Maybe they’ll get another few customers, maybe not. It’s hard to tell sometimes. Although, it _is_ a Friday night, after all. Soon the bars in the area will be closing and it’s only a matter of time before those on their way home swing in for something sweet to sink their teeth into.

Until then, Castiel will bide his time and be ready for them. Hopefully by then his heart will have fully calmed down and he won’t be glancing over at Chuck every few minutes.

*

It’s pushing six o’clock in the morning when Chuck finally packs up everything. Castiel counts no less than four yawns (two of which cause him to yawn too) in the time he spends putting his things away. He comes to the counter carrying everything, including his empty and well used mug. With some effort, he manages to balance everything in his arms long enough to hand the mug over and get the binders properly stacked on the counter.

“So – um – I’d like to settle up my tab, I guess.” Chuck won’t meet Castiel’s eyes while he gets his wallet out. Which is fine, because even he is having trouble looking Chuck in the face.

The café doesn’t exactly have a _bulk_ discount, but as Castiel enters the final tally of coffee into the register, he puts the employee discount into effect on a few of those coffees. He puts it through to the card machine and lets Chuck pay while he gets his license from the register drawer. Castiel hands that back with the receipt.

“Thank you for spending the night here.” His smile is more confident than he feels. “We hope to see you again sometime soon.”

Chuck looks a little surprised by that. “I – I’m sorry for before. But, yeah, if you don’t mind, sure. I’d like to come back.” He ducks his head as he puts his wallet away. “I got a lot of work done.”

“That’s good to hear.” Castiel picks the mug up and moves it to a bin next to the kitchen door where he puts the dirty dishes. “I hope none of the other customers disturbed you when they came in.”

“To be honest, I didn’t hear a thing. When I get really into writing, the rest of the world kinda fades away.” He shrugs with a laugh and shakes his head. “If you didn’t keep on top of filling the coffee for me, I probably would’ve just kept drinking from an empty cup.”

The bell above the door chimes, saving Castiel from having to continue the conversation. Chuck picks up his binders quickly and backs away from the counter. He nods his goodbye and heads out without another word. The next customer holds the door open for him. Castiel raises an eyebrow at the familiar face, even as a smile starts to spread. This is an unusual time for Dean to be in, but he’s happy to see him. It’s been a few days since the last time he was here, but it always feel so long between visits.

_ _

Unless he’s been awake all night, there is no good reason why Dean should be awake this morning. And yet, here he is. Not only is he awake, but he is _wide_ awake. There’s not a trace of sleepiness in his system and it’s been that way since he rolled out of bed half an hour ago. Hell, there’s even a goddamn bounce in his step as he heads over to the counter.

Okay, maybe the bounce has to do entirely with the fact that Cas is at the counter and smiling at him. Dean raises a hand in a wave as he approaches. “G’morning, Cas!”

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas nods at him and that awesome smile of his grows, making Dean’s knees go a little weak. “This is an unusual time for you to come in.”

See? Even _he_ knows that this is just fucking ridiculous. “Yeah, well, I crashes super early last night.” Dean shrugs and absently scratches at the back of his neck. “Fell asleep reading and woke up early. Since I couldn’t get back to sleep, I figured I’d come see what kind of breakfast you guys serve.”

Cas tilts his head to the side slightly and his eyes get an unfocused look to them. “Breakfast starts at six o’clock and we usually serve breakfast sandwiches since most get them to go. But we can also make plated meals for anyone who wants to eat in.”

Oh man, Dean could totally go for a breakfast sandwich right now. His jaw twinges as he salivates at the idea of a thick cut bagel piled full with a fried egg, melting cheese, and a whole layer of fresh cooked bacon. Do they put any special sauce on it? He would _kill_ for some chipotle ketchup right now. Shit, is he drooling? He better not be drooling. That would be so uncool and _beyond_ unattractive. And he even put actual effort into looking good for Cas this morning.

“Sign me up for a plain black drip right now, and a breakfast sandwich – if it’s not too early.” Dean is pretty sure that it’s after six o’clock, or at least it’s gotta be pretty close to it. He eyes up the pie display, but it sits sad and empty. The display case isn’t looking much better.

“Don’t order any of that.” Cas waves a hand to get Dean’s attention. “It’s all from yesterday. The first batch of today’s baking should be out soon.” He gestures back over his shoulder at the door. “Our weekend baker started an hour ago and she has croissants, scones, and cinnamon buns in the ovens.”

Well, he’s got two hours to fill and Dean is more than happy to make the sacrifice and spend it eating delicious foods. “Hit me up with a bun and a croissant. Please.” It takes him a moment to realize that he should probably point out one important thing. “For _inside_.” Because he is absolutely going to be staying here until work starts in a few hours.

The great thing is that Charlie and Jo don’t work today. That means Dean can spend as long as he wants here this morning and he doesn’t have to worry about going back home to pick them up. Of course, it’s going to suck not having either of them on shift today, but he’ll make do. Everyone but Dean is on a staggered shift. He gets them steady because his mom makes the schedule and everyone knows that she plays favourites with him.

And _that_ could be a leading reason for why he’s the butt end of every other joke and gets teased the most. Luckily, he doesn’t mind too much because he gets to spend every day with friends and family doing a job that he’s wanted to do since he was in diapers. His life is practically perfect in every way and he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Cas’s smile grows a little bit and it takes Dean’s breath away. “As you wish.” He punches everything into the cash register. “Would you like your coffee at the same time as the rest of your food?”

“Sounds good to me.” Dean holds up holds up the book he brought with him and gives it a wiggle. Finally he can start reading book two from the Elenium series. Charlie took her sweet time with it because she’s a big ol’ tease, but now it’s Dean’s turn and he is _excited_.

Has he ever seen Cas smile this much? It feels like this is some kind of blue moon event thing and it’s making him feel _special_. That’s the kind of feeling that’s going to make trouble for him and Dean ducks his head to try and forget about it.

“One moment, please.” Cas turns away to poke his head through into the kitchen. “One breakfast sandwich, please!” He turns back to Dean and puts a tray on the counter. “It will just be a minute for everything. Would you like me to bring it to you at a table?”

“Nah, I’ll wait.” He gives Cas his brightest smile and glances around. “How’s the night been so far?”

It’s only from the corner of his eye, but Dean is pretty sure he sees Cas hesitate before starting to pour the coffee. “Nothing much. Aside from the after bar rush, it’s been fairly quiet.” He shrugs and there’s the clink of a mug being put on a plate. “I see that you’re reading. Which one is that?”

Now that’s a topic Dean could talk about for hours and hours. Cas doesn’t have that long, so Dean does his best to condense it down. He gives Cas the basic plot of the story, minus all the spoilery bits because that’s just not cool at all, and how he feels about the book. The online equivalent of how Dean would describe his feelings on this book series boils down to a few lines of nothing but key smashes. Story wise, he might even go far enough to say that he enjoys it as much as he does Lord of the Rings. It would be fucking _sweet_ if the Elenium was picked up for a movie franchise one day.

Dean spills all of this to Cas, taking very few breaths between his sentences. This is the closest he’s ever going to get to showing his truly geeky side, but dear God he can’t shut up about how much he likes this series. On the bright side, Cas doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he smiles the whole time and actually looks like he’s paying full attention to him. Cas keeps his eyes on Dean for as long as he can the whole time he talks.

The only time Cas actually looks away, and the only thing that gets Dean to stop talking, is when the bread guy walks in from the kitchen carrying two trays of baked goods. Balthazar flashes Dean a grin that’s all teeth, a kick back to the last time they saw each other. It totally empties his brain of everything he’d just been talking about because this Fairy bastard _always_ looks like he’s up to something and that something can’t possibly good.

Cas takes the trays and kicks Balthazar in the shin. “Stop creeping out my customers and go get Dean’s sandwich like you’re supposed to.”

Balthazar pouts, but does as he’s told. The kick is probably the only thing keeping his mouth shut. As soon as he’s gone, Dean’s heart decides to start beating properly again.

With a sigh, Cas slides the tray into the display case. “Please don’t mind him. I would like to hear the rest of what you have to say about the books. They sound interesting and I might give them a chance when I finish with what I have on my shelf upstairs.”

“You should _definitely_ do it!” Dean taps the book against the counter for emphasis. “I give this series my full endorsement. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’d say go read it right now, but you probably have all sorts of plans for the weekend already, don’t you?”

“Not really.” Cas shrugs and takes a few plates from a shelf behind the counter. “I’m only awake during the night and since Gabriel is most often sleeping, I usually either go for a walk or spend the read. Sometimes I watch TV or a movie – quietly.”

Hold the phone. Is that really all that Cas does? That’s not _bad_ , per se, but Dean was hoping they might share more interests than just the books they read. “Do you have any other hobbies?”

He hums in thought while putting a croissant and a cinnamon bun on two plates. “I suppose. When the weather is good, I like to garden. Which reminds me, many of my plants can’t take the cold and I’m going to have to move them indoors soon.” Cas sighs and gives Dean a defeated look. “Gabriel is going to hate that. I didn’t have most of my plants last winter when we moved here. HE already thinks I have too many as it is while they’re _outside_.”

Yeah, okay. Dean could see that being a problem. But it’s not like they don’t have a whole building to fill with them. “Why don’t you move some of them down here?” He turns around and gestures at the rest of the café. “Unless you’ve got yourself a jungle in your garden, I think you could probably fit at least a few down here.”

That suggestion brings another bright smile to Cas’s face. “That’s a wonderful idea. Thank you, Dean.”

Oh geeze. That’s not _fair_. If he was a dog, Dean would be wagging his tail hard enough to sprain it. This crush on Cas is getting downright _ridiculous_. He ducks his head to try and hide his blush. It wasn’t _that_ wonderful, but he’ll take praise from Cas where he can get it. Waking up this early, on purpose or not, is was totally worth it.

A meow from by his feet comes as a perfect distraction. Dean looks down to find Cas’s found cat rubbing sniffing at his shoe. “Hey, fluffy.” He crouches to give her a few good scratches behind the ear now that he doesn’t get the sniffles here. “Looks like no one’s come by for you yet, huh?”

The cat purrs and leans into his hand for a moment. She doesn’t stay long. Instead, trotting off to go do cat things while Cas puts Dean’s order on a tray. He ducks out only to return with the most delicious looking breakfast sandwich Dean has ever seen. His fingers start itching to pick it up, but that would be rude. At the very least, he should wait until he’s sitting down. And probably shouldn’t leave conversation hanging like he just did.

Cas looks mighty pleased that Dean just talked to the cat. “Is touching her alright for your allergies?”

“We’ll find out.” He wipes his hand clean on his shirt, just in case. “So, are you marking off the days on your calendar until you can officially keep her to yourself?”

With a cough, Cas looks away and pretends like he’s busy with putting away the receipt from the transaction. “Only mentally. Gabriel would complain if he saw a physical copy of it.”

He sighs and bends down to pick up the cat, because obviously she would go to him if she was looking for attention. She ends up almost hanging off of Cas’s shoulder, his hand still under her butt while he holds her up high on his chest. It looks like he’s holding a baby or something and it’s kinda hilarious. Cas doesn’t seem to notice or care because he goes about doing everything one handed. Thankfully, all that’s left is to put the coffee on the tray.

It’s silly, but Dean’s heart does some fun little cartwheels at the sight of the mug. The mug is pretty simple on its own, but it’s the shiny green dragon tied to the handle that’s making Dean’s insides act like he’s twelve again. This isn’t even, like, the first dragon he’s received. It’s not even the second. There’s a small collection of them growing on his desk at home and it makes him feel like a total creeper because Dean _totally_ writes the day he got it on them.

Yup, that’s a secret he’s going to carry to his grave.

Dean picks up his tray, ready to go sit down and get started on his book so Cas can get back to work. Those plans get the kibosh almost immediately when the door to the kitchen swings open and Balthazar saunters in like a man on a mission.

“Dean-o!” He slaps his hands on the counter and leans forward, wings a fluttering blur. “What are you going to wear to the party?”

Party? What party? Oh! That Halloween party Gabriel mentioned earlier in the week? Fuck, he hadn’t even considered it. “I dunno. I haven’t even checked if I have the day off yet. Actually – has a day even been decided for it?” He looks at Cas, eyebrow raised.

Cas shrugs too, jostling the cat slightly, and rolls his eyes. “I gave my consent, but I have no say in any of this planning. But, knowing my brother, he’s likely planning to hold it on Halloween night.”

Balthazar nods like a sage with all the wisdom of the universe in his head. “Sounds about right. And what about _you_ , Cassie?” He turns to him, wings still fluttering like crazy. “What are you going to dress as?”

“I’m still thinking about whether or not I’m going to go.” Cas shoots him a flat look with a dangerous edge to it. Dean reads it loud and clear for the warning it is. Balthazar needs to stop asking questions and get back to the kitchen before Cas losing it on him.

“As the close personal friend of yours that I am, I absolutely _must_ insist that you go to the party.” Balthazar puts his hand on Cas’s free shoulder and gives them a squeeze. “And do you really think that Gabriel will let you _not_ attend?”

Cas shakes his head and shoves his hands away. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’re such a party pooper.”

“I’m letting you guys have the party in the first place. How is that _pooping_ on it?”

Dean can’t hold back a snort of laughter. Balthazar sighs and his wings droop. “Well, you better figure out what costume you’re going to wear. Otherwise Gabriel and I will be picking it for you.”

It’s high time that Dean includes himself in the conversation. “You’ve got two weeks until Halloween. That’s plenty of time to get a decent costume, I’d say.”

“You’re not helping.” That dangerous look gets thrown his way, but it’s not nearly as sharp as the one Balthazar got. “Besides, I don’t believe there’s a twenty-four hour costume shop in the area, is there?”

“That’s what the internet and overnight shipping is for, Cassie.” Balthazar shakes his head and sighs again, this time even louder. “You’re a big boy. Why do I have to spell this out for you?”

Is it wrong that Dean really loves this? He’s having a ball watching Cas interact with his employee. It’s obvious that he and Balthazar have known each other a lot longer than the month since the café has been open. He would like it even better if he could see Cas talking with his brother. Dean would be dollars to donuts that Cas is way less of a perfect business owner when he’s dealing with people he’s extremely familiar with.

When he’s dealing with someone he’s comfortable with – like Balthazar – Cas looks a lot more _natural_. That’s exactly what Dean likes to see. It makes him feel less unattainable, if that’s the word for it. This natural Cas is the one that Dean wants to get to know better, and he is to some extent. He’s learning new things every time he comes in to the café and he is _very_ please with that.

Cas gives Balthazar a glare like ice. “I think you should return to the kitchen now, Balthazar. You’re keeping Dean from his sandwich and it is quickly growing _cold_ , might I add.”

“That’s my cue to find myself a seat.” Dean nods to the both of them and turns away. It’s best to beat a hasty retreat before he gets drawn into anything that might make Cas hate him.

Whatever is left of Cas’s conversation with Balthazar is wrapped up in hushed whispers that Dean can’t pick up from where he ends up sitting. Eventually, bread boy does head back into the kitchen and Cas starts busying himself with counting money out of the drawer. The cat has disappeared again, but she’s not really what distracts Dean from being as focused on his reading as he should be. He can’t help glancing over the top of his book every so often and watching Cas while he works.

The cat makes her appearance again, this time on the chair next to him at his table. She watches him with eyes as big and blue as her owner, head tilted slightly. When Dean reaches for his sandwich, she meow and lifts a paw. It touches his arm gently before she lowers her paw to rest it on the edge of the table. Dean glances down at her and takes a bite of his sandwich. He’s getting the distinct impression that this is a cat’s version of begging.

“Gotta say, Cat, dogs have better puppy dog eyes than you do.” Dean shakes his head and turns back to his book. “Sorry, sweetie. But I’m pretty sure that Cas doesn’t want me feeding you any human food.”

That said, it definitely doesn’t stop her from reaching for him every time he takes a bite of anything. Hell, she even touches his arm gently every time he takes a sip of his coffee. It’s cute, but it reminds him why he’s not a pet owner of his own. Pets can be kinda annoying. Granted, he’s also allergic to cats. Dogs are fine, but they’re a bigger time commitment than a single firefighter can give it. And Dean really isn’t much into rodents or reptiles.

Even though he doesn’t give her anything, the cat keeps Dean company until Cas comes and picks her up at seven o’clock. She curls up in his arms and honest to goodness actually _yawns_. It’s the first time Dean gets to see a cat’s whole mouth up close and it’s absolutely _terrifying_. So, cats are apparently only cute when their mouths are shut, apparently.

“My shift is over now and Balthazar is taking over the counter.” Cas tilts his head towards the cash register. “If you need anything else, he’ll help you. I’m going to head upstairs now. But it was nice having you stay here for a change, Dean.

“Yeah, it was nice.” Dean puts his book down and looks up at Cas with a bright beaming smile. “I’ll have to do it more often.” But on days off and only in the evening. It’s rare that wakes up this early, but if it happens on a day Cas works, he’ll probably come in.

Cas returns his smile. It’s not nearly as bright, but it’s pretty damn nice in its own way. “I’d like that.”

He seems pretty sincere about it and Dean’s hopes freaking _skyrocket_. Cas probably only means it from some kind of business standpoint, but it’s making his heart pound like no tomorrow. It’s a twenty-four hour dance marathon going on his chest and it’s probably going to kill him.

“Have a good weekend, Dean.” Cas dips his head in goodbye and turns away. “I’ll see you next time.”

“See ya, Cas!” Dean makes sure to keep his eyes on his book while Cas walks away. The last thing he wants is for Balthazar to see him stealing a glance at Cas’s ass or something.

Either way, this is _definitely_ a good way to start his day. He’s going to be walking on cloud nine for the rest of it, that’s for sure. Hopefully this feeling is going to stick around, because he’s going to need that feeling to bolster his courage later on. Little does Cas know that there’s an origami cat sitting in Dean’s car right now, ready and waiting to be delivered later today when he _definitely_ won’t be on shift.

Dean has been practicing like crazy since last Saturday to get the cat just right, and after a week of work, he’s pretty sure the final product is as close to perfect as it’s going to get. Until he gets told off for it, he figures he can get away with leaving one origami piece every Saturday. The moment he gets wind of Cas thinking that it’s creepy or he’s trashing them, then he’ll stop. Thank God he’s got his inside source – Sam. He’ll never forgive him for hiding it from him, but at least he’s got a man on the inside now.

It kinda feels like things are looking up and it’s a feeling that Dean could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A small part of Cas's café playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcsUYu0PVxY)
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> \---  
> We would like to offer our apologies for the brief hiatus we just took. Purgatoryjar was in the process of moving countries. She's started a new job in a new country, that is turning out more difficult than first expected. It has severely cut into her art time and we don't want to sacrifice quality for quantity. As such, we are going to a bi-weekly update schedule (every 2nd tuesday) and the next chapter will be November 29th.
> 
> In the future, if you're wondering about where a chapter is, you can check out status updates in the [fic tag on my tumblr!](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

**_ _ **

**_ _ **

**_Saturday – October 17 th, 2015_ **

It’s pushing ten o’clock when Castiel decides that it’s time to take his evening walk. The temperature is steadily declining and the low expected tonight twenty-seven degrees. Which means, in the terms of clothing, that it’s time for him to break out the scarf. He would rather be prepared than caught unawares in the cold.

To be honest, he actually _prefers_ colder weather. It’s murder to Castiel’s plants, but he can move all of those indoors to where they’re safe. With the onset of colder weather, he can start wearing warm sweaters. Though he doesn’t have many clothes, at least half of his closet is composed of large and _extremely_ comfortable sweaters. He enjoys wrapping himself in one of those and sitting with a hot tea or coffee, and reading a good book.

Castiel is almost _too_ disappointed that their small apartment doesn’t come with a fireplace. They had one in their childhood home, and he has some truly _wonderful_ memories that were made around it. Some of his most treasured memories are the ones where he and Gabriel would spend winter nights sitting with their parents in front of their fire. Everyone was wrapped in their own blankets, and everyone had a mug of hot cocoa. In the quiet, their mother would read to them the same stories she read every year.

But that’s a time long gone and Castiel can only recreate _some_ aspects of it in his current life. In this case, it’s keeping warm. As he passes through the café’s kitchen, he buttons his coat. He pauses behind the counter to tuck the tails of his scarf inside it. From the corner of his eye, he’s aware that Tessa is watching him. It’s not until he looks at her that he takes note of the absolutely _ridiculous_ grin plastered all across her face.

With some measure of trepidation, Castiel sighs and turns to her. “Good evening, Tessa.” Her smile grows and he immediately knows what this about. “They left another, didn’t they?”

Some small part of him is at least a little bit curious, but the rest of him is still very torn on the matter, if not somewhat annoyed. What exactly does this anonymous admirer want from him by these gifts? This marks the second one. How many more is he going to get before the admirer reveals themselves and their intentions?

“Yes!” Tessa practically explodes with delight. At least _someone_ is enjoying this. “Do you want to see it?”

“No, not right now.” He shakes his head and turns away, starting for the door. This is not going to spoil his walk like it did last week. There are only so many good walking nights left before the snow hits the ground and walking becomes slightly less enjoyable. “I’ll get it when I get back.”

Her pout follows him out of the café, but Castiel doesn’t let it bother him. With some effort, he puts the origami gifts out of his mind and does his best to focus on enjoying his walk.

*

Castiel has barely made it into the apartment when Gabriel is _right there_. He should be in bed, but of course he’s not. That would be too easy and he _never_ does anything easy. Sometimes it feels like Gabriel’s only lot in life is to make things difficult for Castiel. It’s a rare feeling, but it’s increased a lot over the last year. Especially in recent days – and this secret admirer isn’t helping things at all.

Gabriel has the same look that Tessa did earlier and he rocks forward on his feet. “So, Cassie!” He breaks for a truly _annoying_ giggle. “What is it this time?”

“Go away.”

“Tessa said you got another one.” He holds out both his hands to open and close his fingers in a child-like grabbing motion. “Show me!”

The kitchen in the apartment is small and Castiel’s route from the door to his bedroom is blocked both by Gabriel and by their tiny kitchen table. While he does hold the upper hand in sheer brute strength, Castiel has never used that against Gabriel and he doesn’t plan to start now. At this point, his only options are to go back downstairs, or to give in and show him the origami.

With a sigh, he holds out his hand to reveal the little folded cat sitting in his palm. It’s well done, but still a bit rough in its execution, unlike the crane. Perhaps the admirer didn’t spend as much time working at it as they did the crane? Or maybe the fold is more difficult? Castiel will have to try it himself to be certain. It’s been a long time since he folded anything except for cranes and dragons.

Gabriel stares at the cat for a few moments before he reacts. He claps both of his hands to his cheeks and lets out a high pitched squeal that makes Castiel wince. It’s an overly dramatic reaction and he hates it. Everyone is making such a big deal out of this and it’s almost unfair to be the only person who _isn’t_ exceptionally excited about having a secret admirer.

“Stop it.” Castiel rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, pleased when Gabriel gets out of the way.

“Oh, come on.” He whines at follows at Castiel’s heels as he heads deeper into the apartment. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to learn who it’s from?” When he gets no response, Gabriel sighs loudly. “Well, _I’m_ going to check the tapes again to make sure that it’s the same person and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Short of erasing all the recordings before he can get to it, there really isn’t anything that Castiel can do in this matter. All he can do is give Gabriel one last withering look before retreating into his bedroom. “I wish that you wouldn’t.”

His answer is a smug smile because no matter what Castiel wishes, Gabriel is going to do it regardless. He’s just too curious about it to _not_ do it. Fine. He can do what he wants. But if Gabriel makes _any_ kind of hint about who it might be, Castiel is going to plot some very unfriendly retribution. He’s still plotting his return prank for the time that Gabriel put glue on the stairs, but he hasn’t come up with anything good yet. Maybe he should see if Balthazar has some ideas?

Those are thoughts for another time. In his bedroom, Castiel puts the origami cat down next to the crane. He hangs his coat and his scarf on the hook on the back of his door and sits on the edge of the bed. It’s yet another Saturday night where he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Castiel will likely spend the night reading, but he doesn’t feel particularly interested in any of the books he has to read. Part of him is tempted to go online and order some new books – like the ones that Dean was reading the other day, but he knows that he shouldn’t.

While he tries to make up his mind, Castiel ends up staring at the origami cat until his thoughts eventually come back to it. By that point, he has himself a lap full of a _real_ cat. Nike is already purring, but she only gets louder as he starts to pet her.

“I don’t know what to make of this.” He sighs and gestures at the two little origami figures sitting on his shelf. “What do you think?”

Of course Nike doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even lift her head, too wrapped up in the good feelings of getting a scratch under the chin. If she _could_ talk, Nike would likely tell him the same as everyone else. These are innocent gifts and there’s nothing to be worried about with them. Gabriel and Balthazar, and likely Tessa too, already know who the admirer is. If they thought it was someone worrisome, they wouldn’t be so darn _delighted_ by these.

On the other hand, Castiel isn’t entirely happy to be on the receiving end of these. In fact, he almost wishes that his secret admirer wouldn’t go about doing this in the first place. While he is a bit curious to know what kind of origami he might receive next week, he’s still wary about the admirer’s intentions. And who could it even be?

Castiel has decided that he’s going to tentatively rule Dean out for now. He’s been in a few times over this last week and not once did he give off any kind of _suspicious_ vibe. At least, not one that Castiel could pick up on. Dean was a bit awkward, but that’s likely a base aspect of his personality considering how he’s been like that since they first met.

Either way, he’s going to have to keep his eye on Dean. And on Nick, if he comes by the café again. Castiel hasn’t seen him since he asked him out. Has there been anyone else over this last week that he should take note of? There’s none as far as he knows.

With a sigh, Castiel lays back on the bed to turn his stare on the ceiling. This is going to be on his mind all night and he is _not_ happy about it.

*

**_Wednesday – October 21 st, 2015_ **

“Hey, Cas!” Dean walks into the café at his usual time of two o’clock in the morning. He seems unusually chipper for someone working twenty-four hours straight. “How’s it going?”

That’s a loaded question and Castiel honestly isn’t sure how to answer it. There are various things in his life that are going at different speeds. Overall, there’s more good than bad. Well, that decides his answer then, doesn’t it?

“It’s going well.” He shrugs and tilts his head in greeting.

Dean detours to the display case to look at the treats available for tonight, though it’s no surprise that he starts gravitating towards the pie stand almost immediately. “Anyone call about your cat yet?”

Castiel shakes his head and puts aside his origami sheets. He had been in the process of restocking his box of dragons. “Not as of yet, thankfully.”

“That’s good.” Dean flashes Castiel a bright smile before he leans forward to look at the pie stand. “Have you picked a day for when you’re going to take the posters down and officially keep her for yourself?”

If the question had been asked to Gabriel, the answer would have been a resounding ‘ _no_ ’. As far as Gabriel is concerned, he still believes that Nike will be given over to an animal shelter eventually. Castiel has very different plans and he can’t tell Dean about any of those before he makes sure that no one is listening. Gabriel has spies _everywhere_ – and one of them is currently working in the kitchen.

He glances over his shoulder before leaning over the counter and dropping his voice into a whisper. “The day before Halloween. It will have been one month since I brought her home by then. I’m going to assume that it’s safe to keep her since we haven’t heard anything and I haven’t seen anyone posting about a missing cat that looks like her.”

“Only nine days left, huh?” Dean drops his voice into a whisper and leans closer too. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you two.”

While Castiel might have a few of his employees on his side when it comes to whether or not he should keep the cat, there’s something entirely too validating to know that Dean is rooting for him too. Castiel couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he wanted to, and he certainly doesn’t. “Thank you.”

Shrugging, Dean leans away again. This time, however, there is a blush dusting his cheeks. “Hey, have you thought about taking her to get a reading done? Y’know, like, just to find out about her past through some kind of seeing crystal or something?”

No, absolutely _not_. The number of Creatures who know the magic to do a reading like that are few and far between. A reading like that requires a powerful spell and, more often than not, the ones who sell their talents to perform it are _Witches_. Castiel would rather never know where Nike came from than to take her anywhere near a Witch. That aside, a Fae _might_ have the power to do it, but he’s fairly sure that neither Balthazar nor Anna would know how to perform the spell.

Castiel’s smile slips slightly and he shakes his head. “No, I hadn’t thought to do that. To my knowledge, the nearest Witch who could do that actually lives in the next town over, no?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that’s true.” The blush increases and Dean ducks his head to scratch nervously at the back of it. “Sorry. I guess your brother is out of the question too, huh?”

He’s starting to get the feeling that, between the two of them, _Dean_ wants to know Nike’s past the most. “I’m afraid so. Gabriel isn’t skill in that method of magic. There are others I could try asking if I really wanted to know.”

Dean’s smile falls too, but his slips straight into a pout. “And I’m guessing that you _don’t_ really want to know that badly.”

Castiel shakes his head again, but his smile is back in place. “Not really, sorry. You’ll be the first to know if I find out anything about her past.” Well, maybe he won’t be the _first_ , but he’ll definitely be the first _customer_ to know.

That seems to satisfy Dean’s curiosity for now. He nods in acceptance and holds out a sticky note. “I guess small talk is over now and it’s time to get down to business, huh?”

“If you insist.” Honestly, Castiel would have liked to continue with this so-called small talk. There’s something about talking with Dean that feels more natural than when he talks with his employees. It’s nice, but Castiel also understands that Dean is technically on break and he shouldn’t be away from the fire hall for too long.

While Dean counts out exact change, Castiel quickly prepares the orders with an ease he never thought he’d actually have with this job. Maybe it’s just from having to prepare these same drinks every other night, or from running the café for over a month. Either way, he’s happy that he actually feels _comfortable_ in this job now. It would be so difficult to continue to work here if he never got accustomed to doing anything.

Gabriel’s hopes are that one day they make enough money from the café to have employees do all the work and they don’t need to staff it themselves anymore. If that happens, Castiel will likely still continue to do the overnight shifts. He happens to like it. This is one of the very few ways that he actually gets to _interact_ with people and not feel out of place or uncomfortable with it. What would he even do with himself and all that free time if he had it?

Castiel ponders on that while he selects a freshly made dragon to tie to Dean’s cup of coffee. Tonight, he picks one in a soft red colour. He rather enjoys giving him these. Dean never leaves one behind and he always has the happiest of smiles when he gets one. It’s rather nice to know that at least _someone_ likes them. Though he is rather curious as to what Dean might do with them later. Does he keep them? Re-gift them? Or does he throw them out? Knowing what little he does of Dean, Castiel honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he kept them all.

Dean drums his fingers on the counter after he’s finished paying, and glances around the café. “Hey, if Halloween is in ten days, how come you guys haven’t broken out the decorations yet? You guys _are_ going to decorate for the party, right?”

“Oh, I suppose so?” Castiel shrugs and carefully places all the drinks into a tray. “Gabriel and Balthazar are more in charge of the party than I am. I’m just going to do whatever they tell me to do.” He gets a flat look for his response and Castiel can only shrug in response. “This kind of thing really isn’t my forte. I can’t remember the last time I went to a party, or even hosted one.”

Though he nods in understanding, Dean still looks rather skeptical. “I guess I kinda figured you guys would have some signage up about the party by now. How else are people supposed to know that you’re going to be holding one?”

Well, he does raise a valid point. “I’ll make sure to let Gabriel know in the morning.” And, if he knows his brother, then that means the café windows will be filled with signs and there will be decorations _everywhere_ by the time he wakes up tomorrow evening.

He slides the coffee tray across the counter. “Is that going to be everything?”

Dean glances at the pie stand and he bites his lip. There is a moment of intense deliberation before he sighs loudly. “Oh man, fine. Gimme a slice of pie and the rest of the brownies in the case. I’m gonna treat the staff for not being as annoying as they could be.”

“I know that feeling.” Castiel huffs a laugh and enters everything into the register so Dean can pay again while he boxes them. He’s in the middle of preparing those boxes when another thought occurs to him. “Dean, do carved pumpkins count as decorations?”

“Sure do!” He looks up from the card machine. “Why?”

Lovely. That means Castiel _is_ in charge of some decoration. “Gabriel asked me to do that this weekend. According to him, having an affinity for gardening means that I know how to carve a pumpkin.”

“It’s not rocket science, Cas.” Dean laughs and tucks his wallet away. “Actually, it’s super easy. Haven’t you ever carved a pumpkin before?”

Castiel has distinct memories of having carved pumpkins with his parents as a child, but those are so far in his past that he doubts that it’s anything like riding a bicycle. “The last pumpkin I carved was well over a decade ago, at least.”

Dean’s lips press into a thin line and he starts shifting on his feet. After a moment of silence, he coughs and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I could – I mean, um, when are you planning to do them?”

“He wants me to do them this weekend. It’s the only time I’d really have to do it before the party next weekend.” He shrugs and tilts his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

Again, Dean coughs, and this time he seems to be having a very difficult time with meeting Castiel’s eyes. He actually seems _very_ interested in the countertop. This is very suspicious behaviour and now he _really_ wants to learn what might be going through his head.

“Is there something on your mind, Dean?”

“I – Yeah?” Dean nods as colour starts to creep up his neck. He does, however, manage to actually glance at Castiel even if only for a moment. “I mean – well – I, uh, I don’t work on Saturday.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, curious. Where is Dean going to go with this? Saturdays now have a very different meaning for him, given that he’s received an anonymous origami gift on the last two. Does that have anything to do with what Dean is about to say? It’s unlikely, but it’s possible. He waves his hand, gesturing for Dean to continue.

With another cough, Dean clears his throat and brings up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I just – I have my own pumpkins to carve and I’m – um – I’m a bit of a pro at it, if I do say so myself.” He shrugs and looks back at Castiel again, hope clear in his eyes. “So – if, um, you want, we could – um – maybe, if you want, we could totally do them –” He swallows thickly and looks away. “Together?”

It takes a moment for Castiel to piece together that broken sentence into something coherent. Well, it doesn’t sound like an entirely unpleasant idea, actually. If they carved pumpkins together, it might get Gabriel off his back in more way than one. He _has_ been saying that Castiel needs to make friends, right? Why doesn’t he start with Dean, then? Actually, _technically_ , he started with Nike and Balthazar, in some odd way. But Castiel doesn’t have a real friend of his _own_.

If he was going to make a friend in this town, then Dean would be his top choice out of all the people that he’s met. So far, Castiel enjoys talking with him. They even seem to share the same interests to an extent. Being friends with Dean would be stepping well outside of his comfort zone, but he honestly can’t see anything _bad_ coming from it. Far as he knows, a friend wouldn’t be in even remotely the same sort of danger as a lover might be. And if being friends with Dean doesn’t work, it’s not like Castiel will really be losing anything, would it?

“Alright.”

Dean looks as surprised by the answer as Castiel feels. “Really?”

He nods and takes a paper from his notepad next to the cash register. Castiel writes Saturday’s date on it and the time when he thinks Dean should come by. When he hands it over, Dean has the same expression as he did when he ate that first apple pie.

“Is nine o’clock too late in the evening for you?”

“No, no, that’s fine.” Dean carefully tucks the paper away in one of his pockets. “I know you’re a night guy, so it’s totally cool with me.”

Is nice that Dean is so accepting of that. “Excellent. We can use the café’s kitchen to do the carving. It has plenty of space for the both of us. Is there anything I should get to help with the carving?”

“Nah, I’ve got carving knives for days.” He is downright _beaming_ as he stacks the coffee tray on top of his pastry boxes. “I’ll bring everything that we’ll need, but it would really save you some time if you have your designs already drawn on your pumpkins. Hell, you could even pre-scoop them if you want. A spoon with teeth on it would probably be best.”

That would be a _spork_ , wouldn’t it? Unless Dean is referring to a pasta scoop. In which case, Castiel is sure that they have at least one of those in the building somewhere. To be sure, he’ll have to ask Gabriel. If anyone knows where to find utensils in that kitchen, it’s him.

“I’ll be sure to be ready for you on Saturday, then.” Castiel nods and quickly jots down a note to remind him to look up ideas.

“Great!” Dean’s enthusiasm is incredibly endearing. “I’ll – I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

He nods and looks up from his note with a smile. “I look forward to it.” And, to be honest, he actually is.

“Yeah – um –” His blush returns in full force and Dean ducks his head. “Yeah, me too. I’ll – See yah!” With that, he turns on his heel and very nearly runs out. It’s one of his fastest exits he’s had since Castiel has known him as a customer.

The door is closed behind Dean not more than two seconds before Castiel can feel the presence of someone standing close behind him. He winces, knowing that he won’t be returning to his origami any time soon. “Can I help you, Balthazar?”

“Do mine pointed ears deceive me?” That giddy delight in Balthazar’s voice does not bode well. “Did I just hear you make a _date_ with that bonny boy of a firefighter?”

Oh God. Not this again. “Go back to the kitchen, Balthazar.”

“Oh, Cassie!” Arms wrap around him before he expects it and Balthazar lifts him from his feet in a hug. “You’re growing up! I’m so proud of you!”

“Put me _down_.”

Balthazar’s laughter rings in his ears and echoes through the café. “Wait until Gabriel hears about this!”

Dear God, _no_. It’s suddenly starting to feel like he just made the biggest mistake ever.

_ _

The world is beautiful and amazing and nothing can ever go wrong. Dean feels like he’s walking on clouds and seeing everything through rose coloured glasses. Now he knows why the school kids in his anime always have flowers and rainbows and sparkles surrounding them at moments like this. He’s going to get to hang out with his crush on Saturday and this is the best day of his _life_ – even if it is just past two o’clock in the goddamn morning.

Meg is kicking back in the easy chair and watching some TV when he finally manages to make it through the haze and back into the station. He hands her the tray of coffees and puts the box of baked goods in her lap. His own coffee can wait. There is something he absolutely has to say right now to a certain someone, and the time of night can be damned.

“Where are you going?” Meg sits up slightly, turning to watch him cross the room.

“Gotta talk with Charlie.” Dean waves her off and keeps going. If he doesn’t wake her up to tell her about this, she’ll kill him when she _does_ find out. “She’s gonna wake up for this.”

As quietly as he can, he sneaks into the bunk room and finds where Charlie is sleeping. She’s got the bed closest to the door while Nick is sleeping in the very back of the room. They’re going to have to do this entirely in whispers not to wake up, but they’ve had plenty of conversations while he’s sleeping so this is old hat to them. No matter what, though, Dean _really_ doesn’t want Nick to know that he’s got plans with Cas for this weekend.

He basically crawls on top of Charlie to get her to wake up. She barely moves, but her face totally crunches up in an unhappy wince. “If you were anyone else, I’d be reporting you for sexual harassment.”

Dean grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her a bit because this is big news and he needs to make sure that she’s actually awake for it. He leans down and drops his voice into the quietest of whispers. “I’m carving _pumpkins_ on Saturday.”

Charlie opens one eye to glare at him. “And why does that require waking me up?”

“Because I’m carving them at _The Graveyard Shift_.” If his smile didn’t give him away, then that’s _definitely_ gotta get the point across.

Sure enough, Charlie yanks the blanket away from her face and starts to sit up. Her eyes are huge in the dark and Dean isn’t sure if it’s the light from the door putting a gleam in her eye or if it’s something to do with her being a Phoenix. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

He shrugs and sits back over her legs, shrugging like he’s not freaking the fuck out over this. “IF you think it means that I’m carving pumpkins _with Cas_ , then you would be one hundred percent _right_.”

“ _Dean_.” She sits up the rest of the way and grabs him b y the face, squishing his cheeks together. “Do you have an actual _date_ with a _boy_?”

“Maybe?” They made plans to meet at the café, but it’s not really a _date_ is it? Dean was avoiding thinking that word the whole way back to the station. “Not in those specific words. But kinda?”

Charlie lets go of his face to wave her hands between them in the quietest of squealing sessions ever. She’s been aware from day one that Dean has a crush on Cas and she’s been the most supportive of everyone he knows that he should get off his ass and actually _pursue_ him. Everyone’s still waiting to find out whether or not guys even floats Cas’s boat, but at least this is a step in the right direction. Even if they’re just friends at first, at least Dean would be able to feel out whether or not he actually has some kind of chance with him.

That said, there are things about Dean’s crush that Charlie also doesn’t know about. Despite how she’s been there for every tiny step he’s taken out of his bisexual shell, he hasn’t exactly told her about the whole _origami_ thing he’s been doing. He’ll tell her about that someday, depending on how that turns out with Cas anyways. She’ll probably be mad at him for not letting her in on it sooner, but at least she knows about _this_. If Dean hadn’t woke her up for this, he would’ve been a dead man in the morning.

It’s only a matter of time before she gets Jo in on it. They’re going to make sure that he is _prepared_ for this Saturday. Either it’s going to be dressing him up, doing his hair, or coaching him on what _not_ to say because he’s cursed. If he can’t think of anything to say, Dean’s foot usually ends up in his mouth. He _definitely_ doesn’t want that happening this weekend. If that means spending the rest of the week practicing topics with his roommates, then so be it.

Regardless of how the rest of the week goes, Dean is fucking _psyched_ for this weekend!

*

**_Saturday – October 24 th, 2015_ **

The week passed _way_ too quickly for Dean’s liking. In the blink of an eye it’s suddenly Saturday night and he’s sweating bullets. He already changed his shirt before leaving the house earlier and now he’s kinda wishing he’d brought a spare again. Does he have one in the station? He’s using his parking spot there, so it’s not like it’s out of his way.

Actually, this _is_ kinda out of his way. If it wasn’t a Saturday night on Main Street, he totally would’ve parked right in front of the café. Now he’s going to have to walk up the block with a bag full of carving equipment and not one, not two, but _three_ fair sized pumpkins. All in all, that’s not so bad. His job requires him to be fit as hell and he can carry a _hell_ of a lot more than that. It’s just going to be awkward to carry all of them at once.

Being that weird guy carrying pumpkins down the street would normally have Dean on edge, but he’s got bigger things to worry about. The biggest weight on his mind right now is the fact that he’s about to spend an undetermined amount of time hanging out with Cas. He _did_ practice good topics of conversation with Charlie and Jo over the last few days, but what if he forgets it all? What if he doesn’t know what to say and they end up with an awkward silence between the two of them the whole time? Oh God, what if he fucks up and makes a mess of the kitchen or sets something on fire by accident? What if he’s just downright disgusting and burps, farts, or has bad breath? Does he stink? He should definitely do a pit check before getting out of the car.

Fuck. _Fuck_. He was _never_ this nervous whenever he hung out with Lisa or Cassie in high school. Why is hanging out with Cas any different? It shouldn’t be. It’s just going to be two dudes hanging out in a café kitchen carving some pumpkins. No big deal. There’s nothing special about that, even if Dean does kinda have a bit of a crush on Cas.

Dean has to lean his head on the steering wheel and _breathe_. It takes him a few minutes to think he’s calmed down enough to make the trek down the road to the café. Once he’s got the three pumpkins balanced properly in his arms, he heads out. There’s a pumpkin under each arm, and the third is being held by its stem. He makes sure to keep up his breathing exercise for the walk; deep breath in through the nose and long breath out through the mouth. If he can keep his cool between point A and point B, then maybe he might be able to survive this evening without some horrendous fuck ups.

He damn near trips over his feet and eats concrete when Cas opens the door to the café for him. The attractive son-of-a-bitch was _waiting_ for him. Dean’s brain is back to processing thoughts like a teenager pounding at a keyboard. He’s typer-ventilating mentally and it is _not good_. How is he supposed to actually say words when there’s a string of incomprehensible letters and characters filling his brain?

Cas immediately takes the pumpkin Dean has by the stem. “You should have told me you were going to bring so much. I could have helped you carry it in.”

“Nah, man, it’s cool.” Dean shakes his head to hide the fact that his smile is just as shaky. “If I can carry a full grown man on my shoulders out of a burning building, I think I can handle a couple pumpkins.”

“Have you ever had to do that before?”

Shit. It’s not like Dean was trying to brag or anything, but now he feels stupid for saying that. “Actually, no. But we’ve practiced it a lot with weighted dummies in training scenarios.”

“That’s good.” Cas nods and gestures for Dean to follow him into the café. “It’s better to have done it in practice than to have been in a situation where you needed to use it.”

Oh. Okay, good. Cas apparently doesn’t think Dean is an idiot. That’s a step in the right direction, at least. Though Dean still feels stupid as fuck. He does have a point though. It’s like knowing CPR – good to know how to do it, but you always hope that you never have to use it.

Dean glances around the café to see how business is going. He can’t remember ever being in at this time of night, but business seems to be good. Tessa is moving around the café to wipe down the counter and tables while some people pack up to leave. Half the tables have people sitting at them, either to read on their own or in groups of two or three and playing some board games.

As soon as Tessa sees him, she lights up with a smug grin. Thank _God_ that Cas’s back is turned when she does that. The last thing Dean wants is to have to explain why she looks so pleased to see him. He could probably pass it off as seeing her whenever he picks Sam up from his shift on Saturdays, but would that give him away as the origami guy? As far as Cas should know right now, Dean rarely comes in any earlier than his usual late night coffee runs.

Cas _definitely_ doesn’t know (or at least he _shouldn’t_ know) that Dean was also in briefly earlier today. It was just to pick up Sam and buy a box of macarons for his mom. And, well, he also happened to leave an origami fish to go with the origami cat from last week. Seeing as how Tessa puts her finger to her lips and winks, Dean gets the impression that his secret is still safe. He really hopes that he’s reading her right on that front. It would _suck_ if he was wrong.

Dean follows Cas right past the counter and straight into the kitchen. It’s hard not to feel at least a little bit giddy about that. Even when he’s on the job, there’s always a little thrill to be had for going into places that usually you’re not allowed to go unless you work or live there. He gets the same feeling when he goes into a stranger’s house, or going past the lobby of an office building. It’s just – it’s fun. And this is special because this is _Cas’s_ workplace.

Running down the middle of the kitchen are two long worktops with storage underneath. On the one closest to the front, Cas already has five pumpkins set up. He puts the one he took from Dean on the other side of the worktop, so they’ll be facing each other while they’re working. Well, that’s to be expected. It’s not like he was going to be knocking elbows with Cas the whole night or anything. That would be hoping for _too_ much, probably.

He dumps his last two pumpkins and his bag of crap next to Cas. “So, you’re going to be doing _five_ pumpkins, huh? That’s a lot of work.”

“Yes, it is.” Cas sighs and gives him a look that’s verging on _ashamed_. “And I must confess. I didn’t do any of the preparation that you suggested I should.” He goes around the table and turns one of his pumpkins for Dean to see. “I haven’t done any designs yet.

Dean can’t help but laugh. He was anticipating a _way_ worse response than that. Designs are no big deal. “Don’t worry about that. It’s easy enough to fix. Just tell me that you at least have an _idea_ of what kind of designs you want to do?”

Cas presses his lips together in a thin line and continues to stare down at his pumpkins. “I honestly don’t have a clue. Gabriel only told me to _be creative_.”

Oh, man. This is too good. Dean shouldn’t be as amused about this as he is. He always kinda figured that Cas would be the good boy scout type; the guy who’s prepared for everything. With the glasses, and the vest, and the notepad by the cash register – it just really gives off the vibe that Cas is put together and on top of things. He _does_ run a business, after all. But it’s nice to see that he’s not exactly perfect.

“Well, lucky for you I came prepared.” Dean dumps his bag of knives out on the counter and sorts through it until he finds a marker. He tosses that over to Cas. “Use that to draw on your pumpkins. It rubs off easy enough with a little alcohol swab if you end up carving outside the guidelines.”

“How is this supposed to help me come up with ideas?” Cas holds the marker up in front of his face and frowns at it. “Is it a magical idea inducing marker?”

Do those exist? If they do, then Dean wants one. He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, you’re going to have to figure that out on your own. My suggestion is to use the internet and think of a _theme_ that you might want to represent the café with.”

Understanding clears up the frown, and Cas turns his attention on Dean and his pumpkins. “What kind of theme do you have?”

“Extreme nerd.” And he’s not even ashamed to admit it. There are _some_ aspects to his nerdy life that he won’t reveal just yet – like the LARPing or the weekend video game marathons in his underwear. But this? This is okay.

He turns the pumpkins around to show Cas the designs. “Charlie drew them for me earlier. Between you and me, she’s got _way_ more artistic talent than I do. I’m better at abstract.”

Cas actually starts to _smile_ as he leans forward to look at the pumpkins. He glances over the first two before pointing at the third. “Is that a _Snitch_ from Harry Potter?”

“Don’t judge me.” Dean crinkles his nose with a laugh and turns it around. Thank _God_ this talking thing is going so much better than he thought it would. Maybe it’s easier because they’ve known each other for a month and a half now? Granted, they really only see each other a couple times a week. Either way, this is good. This is _very_ good.

“What about the other two?” Cas rolls his eyes and gestures at them.

Dean taps the one in the middle. “The emblem of House Stark from Game of Thrones.” And then he taps the last one. “This is the crest of the Queen of Moondoor.”

And that’s all the information he’s is going to give on that because if Cas learns that Dean is tits deep in the world of live action role playing, he’s probably going to lose any and all chance of being – well – being _anything_. Dean loves being a LARPer and he’s made some fun friends, but there’s no denying that not everyone outside of the community really gets what it’s all about. He been doing it since his late teens and he’s encountered a lot of cynicism from a whole variety of people over the years.

Now it’s just Dean’s personal preference to have the reveal of his penchant to go LARPing fun to be on the same level of when he would tell someone about the kind of things he likes in the bedroom. If he feels comfortable enough to tell someone that he might like the idea of wearing silky panties for his partner again, then he’ll be comfortable enough with telling them that he likes to dress up as a medieval warrior and kick some ass with a properly balanced fake sword.

Cas hums and tilts his head to the side. “I don’t recognize the name _Moondoor_. What series is that from?”

There’s the expected question, and Dean has an answer ready for it. “It’s an inside joke with Charlie from when we were kids.” He shrugs and turns that pumpkin around too. “Now, you don’t technically _need_ a theme if you don’t want one. You could just do a bunch of generic faces, or carve in the name of your café, or whatever. You just need to make sure that your design has enough negative space that parts will still be connected to the pumpkin.”

“I believe I understand.” He frowns again, but this time it looks like it’s in thought. Cas steps over to one side and opens up a laptop that Dean didn’t notice before since it blends in with the silver worktop. “I’ll do a bit of research first. Please don’t let me keep you from getting started on your pumpkins.”

Dean shrugs and sorts out his handful of knives. “I’m not in any kinda rush. Why don’t you take a look at that and I’ll go grab myself a coffee before I get started.”

While Cas does nod, like he’s listening, he seems more focused on the laptop now. He pulls a stool out from under the counter and sits on that while he starts typing at the keys. Dean checks under his side of the counter and, sure enough, there’s a space for a high stool there too. Thank God, actually. It would’ve sucked to have to do all the carving on his feet. Even though he can spend hours fighting a fire and running high on adrenaline, Dean still hates just standing around. It’s find if he’s moving, but being stationary makes being on his feet a hundred times worse.

Tessa is bright eyes and grinning like a fool when Dean heads out front to get his coffee. She even waggles her eyebrows at him. “Pumpkin carving with the boss, hm?”

“Yup.” He nods and tries to avoid eye contact. “Black drip, please.”

The sound of a Youtube video starts playing from the kitchen and Tessa immediately leans forward to drop her voice into a whisper. “I gave him the fish when he came down earlier.”

Okay, so he’ll give her points for trying to be discreet, but is she _insane_ for bringing this up while Cas is still within earshot? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Right. Hush hush wink wink and of that.” Her attempt to look annoyed is ruined by a giggle as she enters his order into the register. “Do you want to know what I think about how he feels about them?”

Yes, a thousand times _yes_ , but this is _not_ the time for it. “Nope.” He doesn’t need to be thinking about that the whole time he’s in a big ol’ kitchen to hang out with Cas. Especially if she says that Cas doesn’t like them and that it’s weirding him out or something.

Tessa sighs, but she ends it with a wink. “Next week, then.”

Now that’s a decision he can accept. Dean nods and accepts his coffee before dropping all his change into the tip jar. Tessa winks at him again and he schools his face into blissful ignorance as he heads back into the kitchen with a mug that is sorely lacking in awesome origami dragons. Cas is probably the only one of the people who works here who does that.

Speaking of Cas, he’s now hunched over his laptop with a pumpkin in his lap and the marker in his hand. The tip of his tongue is poking out between his lips as he glances back and forth between the screen and the pumpkin while he draws. It’s fucking _adorable_ and Dean is going to have to fight the urge to watch him while he drinks his coffee. He’s supposed to be working on his own pumpkins, not ogling his carving partner because he’s got a dumb little crush.

After half his coffee is down his gullet, Dean puts it aside and gets a couple Tupperware containers from his bag. They were too big to fall out of the bag when he dumped the knives out. Seriously, these are _massive_. They’re basically casserole containers and Dean usually uses them to store the lids of other containers. It’s not like anyone in his house cooks enough to need this – except for Thanksgiving. Yeah, he’s going to need these suckers for the holidays.

For now, it’s time to fill them up with some pumpkin guts. He puts one container next to his first pumpkin and picks up a knife. First up for carving is the top. Dean stabs the knife in at an angle so the top will fit back in nicely without just falling straight through. It takes little to no effort to saw his way around the top of the pumpkin, and he even hums while he’s at it. Focusing on the pumpkin is the only way he’s going to keep himself from continuously glancing up at Cas.

Dean uses the knife to saw off a thin layer from the top of the pumpkin once he pulls it free. There’s all sorts of stringy guts dangling from it and he makes sure all of that ends up in the container. It may be easier to use the meat of the pumpkin for baking, but Dean can still make some good shit from the pieces he carves out and the stringy insides. And especially those _seeds_. Holy shit, his mouth is already watering at all the awesome things he’s going to be able to make.  

Cas is still drawing on his pumpkins when Dean gets elbow deep inside his first one. The scoop he brought will be good to use to get all the shit off the insides, but everything else will be easier to get out by hand. He’s methodical with his gutting, taking his time and making sure that he’s getting _everything_. The more he scrapes, the more guts he’ll have to cook with later.

By the time Dean’s ready to pick up the knife again and start carving, Cas is drawing on his third pumpkin. He still has that determined look of concentration, but he stops and looks up when Dean turns the pumpkin on its side and stabs it again, this time with a lot more precision. “Would you like me to play some music? The soundtrack for the café doesn’t quite reach back here, but I have the same playlist on my computer.”

“If you want to.” He shrugs and flashes him a smile. So far, he’s been plenty happy with just humming and spending some time with Cas – just like last week when he was here to read.

With a few quick taps at the keys, Cas gets some music going. It’s some sorta soft instrumental, but it’s nice and not at all distracting. Dean could listen to pretty much anything right now and not mind. He’s feeling so good right now that if the music had lyrics, he’d be singing along to it. As it is, his hips get a little sway to them and he’s definitely got a foot tapping. The tune is easy enough to pick up on and Dean starts humming along to that as he gets back to carving out the shape of the Snitch’s wings.

He’s still working hard at the fine detailing of the Snitch when Cas clears his throat. “I’m done.”

Dean glances up for what feels like the first time in a while. All five pumpkins are facing him now. Two of them have generic faces; one scary, and one with the classic Jack-o’-lantern smile. The third has _TRICK OR TREAT_ on it in a funky font that may or may not be too difficult for Cas to carve as a first timer. If he has some trouble, Dean will happily lend a hand. The fourth pumpkin has _GRAVEYARD SHIFT_ in another cool font, and the fifth is a stylized cup of coffee. All of them look really good and Cas clearly has some artistic talent when it comes to drawer on a pumpkin with a marker.

“Those look great, Cas!” Dean gives him a double thumbs up and another bright smile. “Did you see how I started mine?”

“Was I supposed to be watching?”

Good point. He snorts a laugh and grabs one of the spare knives. Dean’s heart rate picks up a bit as he heads around the worktop, putting himself a lot closer to Cas than he’s been all evening. He tries _really_ hard not to let any of that show as he pulls one of the face pumpkins over.

“We’ll start with this one because it’s pretty easy and you should be able to get the hang of carving with this.” Dean holds his knife at an angle and carefully slides it into the top of the pumpkin. “We don’t want the lid to fall back in when you put it on, so you need to make sure you cut into it at a wedge angle. Otherwise, you’re going to need toothpicks to keep it up and that’s just no fun.”

Cas nods along and leans in to watch. Too bad for him that Dean is more of a hands off teacher. He’s a firm believer that the only way you’re going to learn something is to do it yourself. The only thing he does for Cas is show him that the knife is basically a miniature saw as he does about an inch or two of the cutting for him. After that, he passes it over to him with another bright smile and a wave of his hand.

Thankfully, he doesn’t get any complaints about it. Cas seems more than happy to take over, and he’s even pretty good with handling the knife. Dean gets another knife and starts on another of Cas’s pumpkins. There’s five of them to go and the least Dean can do to help out is start cleaning out the gunk for him. Then all he’ll need to do is the actual carving – which Dean will be able to help with once he’s got his own pumpkins finished.

They stay side by side while they work, listening to the music. Cas rolls the sleeve up on his sweater and has zero squicky issues with fisting the pumpkin to pull out its guts. Thank God he can’t seem to hear that Dean’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears. It’s almost enough to drown out the sound of the music, actually. They’re just so _close_ and if it wasn’t for the smell of the pumpkins, Dean would probably be able to smell _him_ – which _seems_ weird but it would be a good idea to make sure that Cas doesn’t stink before Dean gets too far into his crush.

And that right there is some Grade-A bullshittery because just from looking at Cas you can tell that he’s gotta smell like something heavenly. Cas lives above a café that has sells baking on par with his Mom’s. If he didn’t smell like fresh baked apple pie twenty-four-seven, then Dean will eat a handful of freshly gutted pumpkin strings.

Of course it has to be that exact moment when the pumpkin decides to get revenge for his thoughts. It must’ve heard him, because the fucker decides right then and there that it’s a good idea to slip in his hands. And that causes the scoop in his hand to come _flicking_ out of it. To Dean’s horror, the goddamn seeds and strings _splatter everywhere_. He could have handled it if the only thing they ended up on was him and the worktop, but of course that’s not it. But _no_. Of course some of it has to land on _Cas_.

Both of them freeze the moment it happens. The only move Dean makes is to turn and look at Cas, eyes wide and mouth open. He can actually _feel_ his face heat up – going from his _oh-god-no_ pale to _why-God-WHY_ tomato red. Cas turns to him slowly, blinking in surprise. There’s a couple seeds stuck to his cheek, and some strings hanging from his glasses and a bit in his hair.

“Oh. My. God. Cas, I am _so_ sorry.” Dean drops the spoon and resists the urge to reach out and start picking all of that off him. “That was totally an accident.”

Cas takes a deep breath through his nose, but otherwise doesn’t look angry. All he does is calmly reach over and take the scoop for himself. He scrapes it through the insides of his pumpkin before turning to face him again. Everything in Dean’s brain grinds to a complete and utter halt as Cas pulls the top of the spoon back with the composure of someone who’s done this a million times, and lets it flick forward. While Cas keeps the best goddamn poker face the whole time, Dean can only gape as he gets a face full of pumpkin guts.

“Now we’re even.” Cas hums to himself and puts the scoop down. He takes his glasses off to clean them of everything.

The only thing that follows that is silence as the two of them stare at each other. Eventually, a seed falls from the tip of Dean’s nose and it breaks whatever spell had settled over them. Dean snorts a laugh so hard that another few seeds fall. He has zero control over his laughter and he’s so lucky he doesn’t descend into pig-snorting hell. And, on the brightest of bright sides, Cas actually cracks a big smile and has a little chuckle to himself. Dean gets the feeling that he’s not a belly-laugh kinda guy, but this feels like a major victory.

He’s riding so high on his laughter that Dean doesn’t think twice about grabbing the spoon again. It doesn’t even get loaded up with pumpkin guts again before Cas’s smile drops into a squinty glare. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Dean freezes again and tries to look as innocent as he possible can. “Dare what?” If Cas is serious, then of course he’s not going to do it, but if they’re still being playful then he’s going to keep up this little food war just to see how many laughs he can get out of him.

“If you incite a food fight with me, Dean, you _will_ lose.” The tilted smirk offsets the warning tone in Cas’s voice. He _is_ playing and it’s making Dean feel like a giddy teenager again.

“Says who?” Slowly, and obviously, he puts the spoon back into the pumpkin and scrapes it against the sides to reload it. Dean’s feeling daring and maybe just a little bit flirtatious. Things are going _miles_ better than he thought it would and it’s definitely going to his head.

Cas raises one of his eyebrows and the look sends a tingle down Dean’s spine. It’s equal parts terrifying and arousing. “Says the one who knows magic.”

Oh, shit. That’s right! Wait, wait. Is he going to – His whole brain stops working the moment Cas holds his hand out. Dean watches closely as he waves his hands over the table and mutters something under his breath. It’s too quiet and definitely not in a language that Dean recognizes, but it does the trick. Any seeds scattered on the worktop that didn’t manage to make it into the Tupperware container glow briefly before slowly vibrating into the air.

Holy fuck. Dean isn’t even ashamed of how he gasps out loud. This is _awesome_. He can count on one hand how many times magic has been done in front of him and he is super psyched to see it happening. It doesn’t last for long before Cas waves his hand again and the seeds drop. It was just a little display of his magic.

“Colour me impressed, Cas.” He looks at him and just _knows_ that he’s got awe written all across his face. “That was so _cool_.”

A little bit of colour fills the edges of Cas’s ears and he turns back to his pumpkin with a shrug. “That was nothing more than a weak hover spell. More a bluff than anything else.”

“The damage is already done.” Dean shakes his head and grins. “You’re officially one of the coolest people I know.”

Cas glances at him again as he puts his glasses back on, eyebrow cocked again but this time in confusion. “Because I can do magic?”

“Uh – _yeah_?” What’s not to understand about how awesome that is? “Magic is pretty much the neatest thing ever.” And now he’s just making it obvious that he’s totally a magiphile.

“If you say so.” There’s a little smile on Cas’s lips that looks like it’s permanently engraved there, but he still shakes his head. “Now, I believe you were going to show me how to carve these?”

Shit, that’s right. That _is_ what Dean came here to do. “Did you gut it good?”

“I believe so?” Cas tilts his pumpkin so they can look inside.

It looks good to him and Dean gets the knife they were using to cut the tops off. He tosses it from one hand to the other, not exactly _trying_ to look impressive or anything, but it’ll be a nice bonus if that happens. “Okay, _this_ is the fun part!”

Dean is just – he’s _really_ enjoying himself right now. And it’s a plus in his books that Cas looks like he’s having a good time too. All that anxiety and the nerves he had earlier just feels so silly to him now. He’s making _big_ strides in the right direction with Cas and it’s just – it feels really good. Things are turning out way better than he thought they would tonight, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t made an ass out of himself! There’s still time for that, but hey, no sweat.

All in all, the night so far is definitely an A+.

*

**_Tuesday – October 27 th, 2015_ **

It’s two in the morning and Dean is actually _whistling_ as he walks to the café. He still feels like he’s got his head in the clouds after Saturday night. They were carving pumpkins almost until midnight, but all eight were finished and test lit before he packed up to go home. Cas kept a few pumpkins worth of the seeds and guts while Dean took the rest because he had _plans_ for it.

Said plans are currently in his hands in a gift bag labeled with Cas’s name. He swings the bag from his finger as he walks, just too happy with how things are going. Cas gives him the raised eyebrows when he walks in, and Dean definitely notices him glance at the bag.

“This is for you.” Dean puts t the bag on the counter and pushes it towards him with a smile.

“For me?” Cas honestly looks surprised. He looks up at Dean and then glances around slightly, as if checking to make sure that there’s no possibility that it could be for someone else. There’s no one else in the café right now, so who else could it be for, huh?

Tentatively, he pulls the bag closer and peeks inside. Cas almost looks a little relieved when he sees what it is. A smile spreads slowly as he pulls out a baggy of sunflower seeds. “You made these?”

“Sure did!” He puffs up with pride and holds his head a little higher. “Those are from our pumpkins! You’ve got a couple different flavours of roasted seeds, and a loaf of pumpkin bread in there.” And he hopes to high heaven that Cas actually likes them. “What did your brother make with what you kept?”

Cas shrugs and pulls out the other items in the bag to look them over. “Look to your left.”

His left? The only thing on his left is the display case and – “Oh, _hell yes_.” Dean was so focused on giving Cas his present that he didn’t even noticed the tangy smell of fresh baked pumpkin pie in the air. It’s cooling on the pie stand with a mesh cover over it and it looks _amazing_. “Please tell me you have whipped cream to go on to of that.”

“We don’t normally put that on to go orders.” He puts everything back in the bag and moves it below the counter. “But as thanks for the gift, and because I know you’ll be eating it shortly, I’ll make an exception.” Cas smiles and adds a slice of pie on the cash register. “I specifically asked Gabriel to wait to make the pie until you would come in next, and to have it fresh baked for your _tonight_.”

“You are, officially, my favourite person ever.” Hands down. Like, right now Cas is basically tied with Dean’s mom and that is _high_ praise coming from a momma’s boy like him.

With a pleased hum, Cas continues adding _from memory_ , Dean’s usual order to the register. “How coveted a title is that?”

Good question. Dean pauses so he can think about it. How many people has he said that to before? It can’t be _that_ big of a list, can it? Aside from his mom, he doesn’t really have a lot of _favourite_ people. Best friends, a little brother, awesome parents. They’re his favourite family, to be sure. But – yeah. There’s only one answer to that question.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“I’ll accept it with honour nonetheless.” Cas huffs a little laugh and shakes his head. “And I look forward to trying your gift. I’ll have some as a snack later.”

Damn, Dean was hoping to get an answer about them right now. “Well, I hope you like it. I experimented with the pumpkin loaf, but the other ones I made turned out okay. At least my roomies thought they were pretty tasty. I dunno if it’s up your alley or if you even like pumpkin flavoured –”

Thank the ever loving gods of rock that Cas cuts off his verbal diarrhea by a small gesture. “I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful, Dean. I’ll let you know how much they’re enjoyed the next time I see you.”

And that would be… Dean doesn’t the quick mental calculations. “I’ll be back Friday morning.”

Cas looks up from the register and his eyebrows come together slightly, a little wrinkle appearing between them. “Does that mean that you’re not working on Halloween?”

“Nope!” And he is _so_ happy about that. “I’m free to hand out candy and hit your party afterwards.”

“At least I’ll know one person who isn’t an employee.” He sighs and steps over to start pouring Dean’s coffee. “I’m still rather undecided about this party.”

Aw, that sucks. “It won’t be all bad, Cas.” Because he’ll be there and he’ll make sure that Cas has a good time. If Saturday night was any example, then Dean knows that get along well and aren’t lacking for conversation topics.

Unfortunately, Cas doesn’t seem as convinced as he does. He just shrugs and continues with preparing the rest of the order. Dean is in the process of paying, and Cas is half done with the other coffees, when Balthazar pulls open the kitchen door.

His wings are up and vibrating, and he’s got his hands on his hips. “Cassie, that cat of yours is shrieking her head off upstairs. It’s only a matter of time before Gabriel tosses her out the window.”

Cas throws a glare over his shoulder and finishing putting the coffee in a tray. “Excuse me, Dean. I’ll be right back.” He turns to Balthazar and pokes him in the chest. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll finish Dean’s order when I get back.”

Balthazar holds his hands up in surrender and steps out of the way. “You’re telling me not to do work? That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week!”

Dean doesn’t particularly like being left alone with Balthazar, but he doesn’t really have any choice as Cas disappears into the kitchen. There’s an uncomfortable silence only broken by the sound of a door closing upstairs. As soon as that happens, Balthazar shuts the door to the kitchen.

He leans over the counter and drops his voice into a hushed whisper. “I have it on very good authority that you should go to the party on Saturday dressed as a _flower_.”

“ _What_?” No way. Dean already has a fucking _fantastic_ costume.

“Dress. As. A. Flower.” Balthazar stresses each word, his wings vibrating even harder than before. “If you’re dressed as anything else, we won’t let you into the party.”

We? That makes it sound like someone else is in on this too. Dean has a hard time believe that it would be Cas. Which means that it’s probably Gabriel. In that case, he might just skip the party altogether. Nothing good can come of this and he’s got the _distinct_ feeling that he’s going to be the butt end of some elaborate joke that they’re planning.

“I already know what I’m coming as.”

“It had better be a flower.” Balthazar points a finger at him and steps back. “I promise that you _will_ regret it if you don’t.”

Dean stares him down, skeptical as fuck about this. A cold sweat spreads down his back when Balthazar’s finger goes from pointing at him to pointing at the security camera in the corner. Balthazar raises his eyebrows and his levels of smug rise with them. In his case, it’s Dean’s levels of horror that are growing steadily – and his blush.

He looks away and clears his throat. “Reading you loud and clear.” If he had any doubts whether or not anyone besides Tessa knew that he was the one leaving the origami, this has just cleared that up.

“Good.”

It’s some kind of blessing that Cas comes back before this can get any more awkward. He’s got the cat in his arms and he does not look happy. “Both she and Gabriel were _asleep_.”

If he’s trying to look innocent, Balthazar is _not_ pulling it off well. “Oh, my mistake. It must have been a cat outside then.” He shrugs and sweeps past Cas without looking back, even going so far as to shut the door between them.

Cas squints after him, the epitome of suspicious. The last thing Dena expects is for that look to be turned on him. “What did he say while I was gone?”

“Nothing much.” Dean shrugs and does his best to look innocent too. He’s not stupid and he knows, without a doubt, that whatever punishment he was threatened with for not wearing a flower on Saturday will probably hit him hard if he mentions what happened. “He just asked some stuff about the Halloween party.”

“Such as?”

Well, shit. Yeah, okay, he probably should have expected that. “Costumes? He wanted to know what I was going as to make sure our costumes don’t clash. Sounds like I’m going to be the only true ruler of Gondor at this party.”

The frown eases slightly into a bit of a smile. “You’re going to be dressing up as Aragorn? I should have known that you would be a Lord of the Rings fan.”

Dean sniffs and looks away, trying to act all aloof about it. “I might be.” He shrugs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m just recycling costumes from previous years, y’know?”

“That’s understandable.” Cas nods and kneels to put the cat on the ground. “If you have a costume you like, then there’s no problem with wearing it every year.”

“Damn right.” He drops his hand and flashes Cas a smile. “So, what are you dressing up as?”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to look away and shrug, going back to preparing Dean’s order. “You’ll have to wait until Saturday and see. I just ordered our costumes the other day with Gabriel’s Amazon Prime account and I should be getting it hopefully tomorrow or Thursday.”

Aw, c’mon. That’s not fair! Dean wants to know what Cas is. Although, his curiosity has definitely been piqued by one specific word it what was just said. He leans forward to rest his hands on the counter. “ _Ours_ , huh? That mean you ordered a costume for Gabriel too?”

“Of course. Who else would I order it for?” Even though he says that, Cas still doesn’t look at him. He’s totally focused on boxing up Dean’s slice of pie.”

The bullshit meter Dean has permanently lodged in his brain starts pinging like crazy. There’s something more Cas isn’t tell him, but he won’t push about it. He sighs, maybe just a little too dramatically, and picks up his order. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop bothering you now. I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“The party is on Sat – Oh. You work Friday night?” When Dean nods, Cas’s smile grows a little bit more. “I’ll give you my review of your gifts that night.”

Butterflies hatch in Dean’s stomach and start fluttering up a storm at that smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” He tilts his head instead of waving good bye. “See ya, Cas.”

That went about as well as Dean expected and he can honestly say that he has never looked forward to Halloween night more than he does this year.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_** ** _

**_Friday – October 30 th, 2016_ **

When Castiel rolls out of bed just after six in the evening, he’s already decided that today is the best Friday in all of history. The sun set not too long ago and he has a whole _five_ hours to himself before his shift starts. That gives him plenty of time to do what needs to be done. But, first and foremost, he needs to get ready for the nice long walk he’s about to take.

There’s a hum in his throat and a bounce in his steps as he scoops Nike up from her spot on his pillow. She meows in annoyance, but allows Castiel to kiss the top of her head before she starts to struggle. He’s noticed that she isn’t exactly a ‘ _morning_ ’ cat. Sure, she’ll become more active later, but that will only be after Castiel has been awake for a while. Even though she’s lived with him for a month, he has yet to determine how active she is during the day while he’s sleeping.

In light of today, none of that matters.

“Do you know what today is, Nike?” Castiel gives her a good scratch under the chin before he goes to his closet. “It’s been exactly one month since I found you and no one has contacted us about you! Do you know what that means?”

Of course she doesn’t, but he enjoys getting to talk to her nonetheless. After he’s dressed, Castiel goes to give Nike another kiss. He never knew he was this affectionate until after she came into his life. Unfortunately, Nike is not as accepting of his displays of love so soon after waking up. She rolls onto her back and smacks at his face with her paws as he leans down. It only makes Castiel laugh. Oh, how long has it been since he woke up to such a good mood?

“This means that you’re officially family now!” Instead of a kiss, he tickles Nike’s tummy at the risk of his fingers, withdrawing before she can bring out the claws.

She seems thoroughly unimpressed with the announcement. Rather than celebrating with him, Nike turns onto her other side and curls into a ball. It’s adorable and Castiel loves it. He loves _her_ , and he can’t wait to debut the newest addition to the Novak family at tomorrow’s Halloween party. They’re going to look absolutely fantastic in their matching costumes – no matter what Gabriel says.

Technically speaking, Nike won’t really belong to him until he takes her to get chipped and registered. With the sunsets getting earlier and earlier, he’ll be able to go do that on his own soon enough. There are plenty of offices that have later hours to cater to the Creatures who can only come out at night. Castiel _could_ easily go to any of them at any time, but he likes to send Gabriel anyways if only because he prefers avoiding those kind of situations.

Regardless of who takes her for it, Castiel is determined to get Nike registered as an official Novak next week. She’ll get a tattoo in her ear and a lovely collar with tags. He’ll put her name and their address on those, and Gabriel can put a tracking spell on it too. Just in case. Because Castiel is going to make damn sure that he will never lose her – not like her previous owners ever did, if she had them. And that’s something he wants to look into as well some day. Despite what he told Dean, Nike’s past is a curious thing to him and he’ll find a way to learn about it somehow.

Despite his good mood, there is a bone deep fatigue weighing on him as he prepares himself for the rest of the night. He’s going to have to take _the sleep_ tomorrow and he is not looking forward to it. Although, if he thought about it logically, this is actually a good thing. Tomorrow is the Halloween party and Castiel is going to need every ounce of energy that he can get. He can deal with a trickle of customers throughout the night, but he’s never had to deal with how many are going to be at the party tomorrow – regardless of the fact that it’s not his overnight shift.

Tired or not, he still hums to himself as he prepares his breakfast and put something out for the cat. The dishes still go in his bedroom, but it doesn’t cause her to stir on the bed. She’ll come get it when she wants to wake up. Castiel even prepares a little snack for Gabriel – using the leftover cheese from his omelette to make him a small plate of nachos.

“Here.” Castiel puts the plate in his lap as he sits down next to him, ready to eat and watch whatever movie Gabriel is watching right now. “I’m going to go for a walk as soon as I’m done.”

“Thanks.” He nods and starts snacking. “Make sure you take your stuff.”

And by _stuff_ , Gabriel means that he should take the protective charm bag and his cell phone. “I know. I will.” As if he ever forgets. The charm bag lives permanently in the inside pocket of his coat, and he’ll be taking his bag with him, and he always puts his phone in that when he picks it up.

The bag is necessary for his walk, though for different reasons than the last time he took it with him. Rather than taking posters _out_ of it, this time he’s going to be putting them _in_. There are posters all over town and he is absolutely going to use as much of his time between now and his shift to take down as many as he can. It’s going to be a long walk, and he’s going to be half dead for his shift after it, but it’ll be worth it. No one will be able to claim Nike if there are no posters telling them where to find her.

After eating, Castiel puts on his scarf and coat and heads downstairs. Anna is busy with customers, but she waves and flutters her wings as he passes by. The first posters that he takes down are from the windows of the café itself. He doubts that he’s going to be able to get _everything_ in one night, but he can go for another long walk after the party tomorrow. And even if he forgets any, it won’t matter. Nike is his now and that’s the only thing that matters.

*

It’s half past ten when Castiel finally drags himself back home. He is absolutely _exhausted_ and seriously considering just closing the café for the night. At this point, it’s going to take him an entire pot of coffee pumped directly into his veins to keep him awake. Castiel doubts that he’s going to be do anything but the bare minimum for his shift, and he hopes to high heaven that Gabriel won’t want him to do any kind of decorating tonight. He just doesn’t have the energy for it.

“Oh thank God.” Castiel sighs happily when he walks through the door to find Gabriel up on a ladder. He’s in the process of added streamers to the cranes pinned to the ceiling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anna leans around the ladder to look at him. Apparently her task now is to start handing items up to Gabriel.

He shrugs and gestures at the rest of the decorations scattered around. “I don’t have to do it.”

“Well, you would have had to help if you were home on time.” Gabriel throws a glare over his shoulder. “Where the hell were you?”

“On my walk.” Castiel shrugs again and heads behind the counter. There are three pumpkins spaced out along the length of it. The other two are up on top of the bookcases, in place of a few of his plants. It’s smart placing, actually. Now they’re out of the way where they can’t be kicked or knocked over.

Under the counter of the cash register, there’s a plastic box they use as their recycling bin for unwanted receipts and notes. He starts unloading the many papers from his bag straight into that box, hoping Gabriel won’t comment on it. Of course, that’s a pointless hope. If his brother is good at anything, it’s making unnecessary comments.

“I know that tone.” Gabriel goes down a step on the ladder and squints at him. “What did you do? What are all those papers for?” Castiel shrugs for yet a _third_ time and avoids looking up, but of course that’s not going to work. Gabriel can read him like a _book_. “Why do you look guilty? Anna, do you know why he looks guilty?”

“Not a clue, boss.” She hums in thought and her wings twitch up, showing her curiosity.

They both stare at him for an uncomfortably long time before Gabriel groans loudly. “Oh God. This is about the _cat_ , isn’t it?”

Damn. He was hoping it would take longer than 2 minutes in the door for that to be figured out. Castiel lifts his head stubbornly to stare him down. “It’s been a month and no one has come to claim here. That means she’s mine now.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel drops of the ladder with another loud groan. “What did I say about the damn cat?”

“I’ll feed her and clean her litter box.” He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes in a glare of his own. “And it doesn’t matter what you say, because I won the bet and that means she’s _mine_.”

Anna claps her hands in delight, but Gabriel obviously doesn’t share the same sentiment. He rubs his hands over his face and huffs. “And you’re going to leave me to take care of her during the day because _certain_ people in this room sleep the whole time.”

Well, isn’t that too bad. “You _agreed_ that I could make any decision I wanted. The cat is staying no matter what you say.” Castiel turns and starts towards the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway to glance back. “And, for the record, her name is _Nike_.”

“Knee-kay?” Gabriel’s face crunches in confusion and he glances back at Anna. “What the hell kind of name is _Knee-kay_?”

“It’s the name of a statue!” She smiles happily, obviously pleased that she knows this.

Sadly, it only earns her a frown. “Don’t encourage him, Anna.”

His reprimand rolls off her like rain on a leaf. “I think it’s sweet that he wants to keep the cat.”

Gabriel makes a loud gurgling sound full of frustration. It’s the last thing Castiel hears before he quickly makes his exit. He feels overly pleased with himself for standing up to Gabriel like this. No matter what Gabriel says, Castiel is going to keep Nike. She’s a part of the family now and that’s just _fact_. Confirmed all the more by how Nike is waiting for him when he walks into his bedroom.

There’s not long before his shift starts, but he still takes the time to play with her while he changes into something a little nicer than a t-shirt and jeans. Nike voices her displeasure when he leaves to go back downstairs, and follows him all the way to the door in the kitchen. Now that she’s going to be living here permanently, he’s happy to leave his bedroom open to allow her to explore the whole apartment. If Gabriel wants to keep her out of his room, he’d better start keeping his door shut.

Nike is _family_ now and she’s going to be treated as such. Otherwise, Castiel is going to have some _words_ for his brother.

*

**_Saturday – October 31 st, 2016_ **

The sun sets in the late afternoon, before six o’clock. It gives Castiel _plenty_ of time to show away the feel of _the sleep_ and mentally prepare himself for the party this evening. He fully plans to take advantage of his status of business owner to stay hidden behind the counter the whole night. Tessa, and Kevin later, will no doubt appreciate his help. Everyone is fully expecting it to be busy and Castiel isn’t really looking forward to that. He’s never liked crowds and he likely never will.

Gabriel and Anna finished taking care of all the decorations last night, thankfully. That means he can stay up in his apartment until the party starts and his presence is _demanded_. At least his costume won’t take too long to get on. It’s just a one piece jumper that zips from the waist to his chin, more or less. The only costume that will require effort is Nike’s. Castiel hasn’t tried putting her in it yet, which he probably should have. But she’s going to be cute either way and he needs her downstairs as emotional support while he’s serving literally everything.

On top of their usual fare, and the variety of pop they’re going to provide for anyone to mix in with the alcohol they bring, the café is also ordering in pizza for the party. So that’s just one more thing that Castiel is going to be serving. He’ll have to make sure that Nike stays away from that. She’s developed the habit of begging from Castiel and Gabriel while they eat, and she’s started doing it with some of the more regular customers. Particularly the ones that pet her every time they come in. If she doesn’t try to steal some of the pizza straight from the box, then someone is going to get a paw on their arm if they’re close enough to a surface she can sit on.

Castiel doesn’t care in the slightest if Gabriel or any of their employees think it would be a better idea to leave Nike upstairs. She has no interest in the front door and she’ll likely stick with him or stay on top of the bookcases. If she ends up looking agitated because of so many strangers, then he’ll put her back upstairs and hopefully she won’t howl like she does when no one is up there with her.

Until then, he’s going to spend as much time with her alone in his bedroom where he can focus on getting himself into a mind space where he can deal with a large crowd.

*

The clock reads almost ten o’clock when Gabriel all but kicks open his bedroom door. He’s carrying Loki’s horned helmet under his arm. “Are you ready, Cassie? The music’s going downstairs and Tessa says the place is starting to fill up!”

With a groan, Castiel rolls off the bed to step into his costume. “I suppose.” At least he had the foresight of wrestling Nike into her costume an hour ago, and she’s been adjusting to it well.

Gabriel tilts his head slightly and looks Castiel up and down as he zip up. “You nervous about this?”

Castiel shrugs and tugs at his waist to adjust the elastic there a bit. There’s a heavier weight in the back where his stinger is and it feels a bit odd, but at least everything fits. He puts the headband on with the antennae and turns his back to Gabriel. “Are my wings straight?”

“They’re fine.” Gabriel snorts and gives the mesh wings of Castiel’s bee costume a little tug. “Now c’mon and get your striped butt downstairs. I’ve got a surprise for you and it should be arriving soon.”

Now _that_ catches Castiel’s interest, and his suspicions. “A surprise?” What could Gabriel be planning? Better yet, is he planning it on his own or does he have conspirators with him?

Gabriel simply shrugs and puts his helmet on. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

With every syllable, Castiel’s suspicions grow. He has never, not once in his life, actually trusted any surprise that Gabriel has claimed to have for them. It’s a fifty-fifty chance that it’ll be something meant to ridicule or tease him.

Castiel adjusts Nike’s costume slightly before he lifts her to his shoulder. She’s gotten a little bigger since he first found her, but she has no trouble sitting on his shoulder nicely. It’s likely the first time anyone will see a little ladybug riding on the back of a bee. If anyone judges him for dressing his cat up, then they can take their stupid opinions elsewhere. How was he supposed to resist buying her a costume when he saw it online?

“Oh Jesus.” Gabriel rubs a hand over his face and gives Castiel a disappointing frown. “You could just leave her up here for a least a _little_ while.”

“If you want me to be at this party, then she’s coming too.”

“You’re impossible.” He sighs and shoves Castiel out the door ahead of him, making sure that he doesn’t try to find anything to distract him in the apartment.

As soon as they’re downstairs, Castiel immediately takes refuge behind the counter. There are around ten people here now, but there are more coming in and he can see how it’s going to fill up so quickly. He’s fairly certain that he’s had nightmares about something like this. At least he can escape upstairs if he feels too uncomfortable. No one said that he had to stay for the _whole_ party.

Tessa lets Castiel take over making the coffees, but not before she leans in with a smile. “Guess what!”

Oh no. “What?”

“It’s a _penguin_ this time!”

Damn. Well, it _is_ a Saturday, so he should have been expected it . “Where is it?”

She points at the cash register and there's a little origami figure standing next to it. 

“Thank you.” He sighs and quickly tucks it away in the cash drawer for him to deal with later.

Castiel takes Nike from his shoulder to put her on the ground. She meanders away to sit at the end of the counter and watch the gathering crowd from around it. This will be more people than she’s had to deal with, so there’s every chance that she’s going to stay back where she’s safe.Isn’t this just great? Now he’s going to have that sitting in the back of his mind all night, and he’s going to see it every time he goes into the cash box now. And that also means that Castiel is going to be wondering if every person who walks in is actually his secret admirer. He really would rather not think about that right now when it’s bad enough that he has to deal with all these people. Hopefully the orders he’ll be handling will be enough to distract him from it.

After serving a few coffees, Castiel steps back into the kitchen to call up the pizza place. He’s been tasked with making sure that the order is underway and will be delivered on time around eleven o’clock. Everything seems to be going well on their end, so that’s one weight off his shoulders. Though, to be honest, he isn’t expecting to turn around and find Gabriel standing in the doorway to the café with his hands on his hips and the most ridiculous of smiles on his lips.

“Your surprise has arrived!” He grabs Castiel’s arm and drags him back into the front. There’s nothing immediately obvious as a surprise, until Gabriel points towards the front door. “And it’s right there!”

The only thing Castiel sees at the door is a person and that person is Dean. He glances around a bit before making his way towards the stairs and a small group of people standing there. Castiel recognizes their employee, Sam, and assumes that the older couple must be his parents. While that is all well and good, Castiel is very confused. Is Dean supposed to be his surprise? Because he already knew that Dean was coming. The only surprising thing is that he’s dressed as a flower instead of as – Oh.

“Now go and pollinate that flower, bee boy!” Gabriel throws his head back with a laugh and quite forcefully slaps Castiel on the ass.

Rarely has he ever felt the urge to murder someone has he does right now. If Gabriel wasn’t his brother, and if they weren’t in their work place right now, Castiel would hit him. _Hard_. If Balthazar comes within reach tonight, he might very well find his wings plucked within moments. Obviously _this_ is what he was talking to Dean about the other night.

He turns to Gabriel slowly and leans in to drop his voice into a whisper. “When this night is over, I’m going to kill you _and_ Balthazar.”

If he wanted to maintain an air of innocence, Gabriel never should have dressed as the Norse God of Mischief. “We do it because we love you, Cassie.”

“Clearly you don’t.” He hisses and leans in closer, a growl started to rumble in his throat. “If you did, you would respect my wishes that I don’t _want_ a–”

“Whoa, whoa.” Gabriel holds his hands up in defence. “I’m not saying that you have to go ask him out. I’m just saying that you should go and at least make a damn _friend_. Everything else is just us joking around. Promise.”

That is not an acceptable promise. Castiel doesn’t want jokes about how he should go out with anyone. He just wants the whole topic dropped. It’s bad enough that he has a secret admirer that he can’t do anything about. Now he’s got his own family and employees going behind his back to do stupid things like this. That’s just – He’s just – _Oh_ , but he is _so_ mad right now.

“I carved pumpkins with him last weekend. How is that not _friendly_ enough for you?” Castiel crosses his arms and kicks Gabriel in the shin. It’s the only form of pay back he can get right now where none of their guests will see it. “I’m moving at my own pace and I all I want is for you to respect that and stop _pushing_ for things I’m not ready for or don’t want.”

Gabriel presses his lips together in a thin line and frowns at Castiel for a few moments. Eventually, he sighs and throws his hands in the air. “I give up.”

“ _Finally_.”

With a huff, he shoves Castiel in the shoulder. “For the record, _friends_ can have matching costumes too. Look at Anna, Tessa, and Jess! They’re the freaking _Teletubbies_ for God’s sake.”

That doesn’t excuse what he did and Castiel makes another kick at him. “Just _go_.”

He doesn’t like that he’s irritated when he returns to making the coffee. Castiel wanted to be in a good mood while dealing with the customers and their orders and – well, just in general. A good mood would have helped him quite a bit with surviving this night. Now he’s more than tempted to just abandon his post to and head back upstairs. It will mean that he has to pay Tessa, Jess, or Anna overtime so they’ll stay behind and help Kevin when he arrives, but that sounds better the longer he stews on Gabriel and Balthazar’s stupid scheme.

Despite that, a smile still finds its way to his lips when Dean finally makes it through the throng of people to get to the counter. He looks a little embarrassed for his costume, but Castiel has already forgiven him. It’s not like he _knew_ that they were going to end up with some kind of matching costume. And he does feel comfortable talking with Dean.

To be honest, though, out of all of his customers Dean is the one that Castiel would be most likely to call a _friend_. And that’s not even including all the pushing that Gabriel is doing.

_ _

**_Saturday – October 31 st, 2016_ **

Halloween is one of Dean’s favourite days of the year. The only thing that makes it even better is when he ends up having the day off. Today is that day and so far, it’s been perfect. He might be calling that a little early, given that it’s only noon and there’s _a lot_ left to the rest of his day, but he’s comfortable saying that it’s been pretty good so far.

Dean started his day with a breakfast of champions that didn’t involve Jo or Charlie trying to snipe his bacon and sausages. He was able to enjoy his whole breakfast all on his own and it was _awesome_. Charlie got off work at eight o’clock and didn’t even wake up at the delicious smells. Jo didn’t even get the chance because she’s at work and she is _pissed_ that she’s missing Halloween. That and she’s missing The Graveyard Shift’s party, because literally everyone else who isn’t on shift is going to be going.

The rest of the morning was spent touching up all the weather damage to the decorations out front of the house. They’ve got cobwebs on the porch full of giant fake spiders, caution tape everywhere, and the pumpkins. The lawn has fake tombstones and skeletons and creepy lighting and it’s honestly the best decorating Dean has ever done in his life. He’s already put pictures of it all over Facebook just to boast because it deserves to be seen.

Since they always get a ton of kids, Dean has _three_ back up bags that he hasn’t eaten yet. And that’s not including the bag already emptied into a bowl. It’s taking _massive_ amounts of willpower not to snack on those. Which is why he should totally have lunch to occupy his mouth and take up the time between now and when he’s going to go pick up his costume from his mom.

As if thinking about his parents summoned her, Dean’s phone rings and it’s totally his mom. Hopefully this is a call with some good news. He answers the call while checking in the fridge for lunch fixings. Charlie will probably be up soon, so he should make something for the two of them.

“Hey, mom. What’s shaking?”

She sighs, but Dean can hear the love in it. “Your costume is ready.”

“You’re the best, mom!” It was _so_ much easier to ask her to make it than try and rush something from an online order. If it didn’t arrive in time, he doesn’t even want to think about what type of punishment he’d receive from Balthazar and Gabriel.

Mom pauses for a few seconds before sighing. “Are you sure you want to go as this? It’s very… _simple_.”

“Someone hinted very strongly that I should go as a flower.” He shrugs and pulls out a couple slices of cheese. Looks like it’s gonna be grilled cheese for lunch. “One of Sam’s co-workers. No clue why, but I figured since these guys make my coffee, I shouldn’t ignore them.”

His mom clears her throat and signs again. “Sweetie, can I say something?”

Oh God. Dean stands up sharply and glances around the kitchen out of habit, looking for a place to hide because _shit_ , is he in trouble now? No, no. He didn’t do anything wrong that he knows of. Instead, Dean clears his throat and goes for the glib option to test the waters. “I know you’re gonna say something no matter what. Hit me, mama.”

“First, don’t say that. It’s just weird.” Mom sighs, but there’s a laugh on the edge of it. “But secondly, you don’t _have_ to listen to them. Peer pressure is all in your head.”

This is worse than he thought. “Oh my _God_ , mom. Please don’t go there.”

“I’m just saying, sweetie. You’re going to look kinda lame.”

That’s a given, but she didn’t need to _say_ it. “I’m hanging up on you now.”

Mom actually has the gall to _laugh_. “And how are you going to get your costume, hm?”

“I’ll swing by and get it in an hour.” After he’s had his lunch and made sure Charlie doesn’t stay in a coma until the end of the night.

“You’d look much more handsome as Aragorn at this party.” She sighs loudly, honestly sounding disappointed. “We worked so hard on making that one. Why wouldn’t you show it off?”

Damn. She’s going the guilt route. How _rude_. “It’s a heavy costume in a crowd full of people. I’ll be too hot. This flower get up is simple as hell. Green shirt, pants, and a head band. It doesn’t have a cloak that gets in the way and everything.”

Mom snorts in a totally unladylike way that sounds exactly like when Dean does it. “You’re funny. I know for a fact that you don’t have any green – Oh God. You’re not going to wear _pajamas_ , are you?”

“Oh ye of little faith.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I bought a green shirt and I’m going to wear some brown pants. Y’know, like I’m a potted flower or some dumb shit like that.”

“But this costume is just so _sad_.” She huffs, and there’s that tone of stubbornness to it that leads Dean to believe that nothing good is going to come from it. “Give me two hours and I’ll spruce it up a bit.”

Son of a _bitch_. “Mom. Don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.” Her laugh is borderline cackle and it chills Dean to his core. “Two hours.” And with that she hangs up.

Goddammit. Dean rolls his eyes and tosses his phone on the counter. He’d be more pissed if he didn’t have some other fun things that he could for the next two hours. First things first; _lunch_. After that, he has an origami penguin to fold for Cas. Originally, he was planning on slipping it to Tessa at the party tonight, but now he’s got a whole new plan. Now that he doesn’t have to be at his mom’s place for two hours, he can go pick up Sam and drop off the origami at the same time without anyone potentially catching him in the act.

*

Dean waits until after he hasn’t seen a kid for more than twenty minutes and half the neighbours have already turned off their porch lights. He may or may not be the creepy guy sitting at the window and peeking through the curtains. Normally Mrs. Monahan up the street is the neighbourhood watch lady. She even has binoculars and a notepad, and he only knows this because she had him check all the smoke alarms in her house once. Halloween is the only time of year when Dean embodies Mrs. Monahan, but it looks like it’s time for him to call it quits.

There’s always something _sad_ about going outside to blow out the candles in the pumpkins. And it’s only a matter of time before they start rotting and he’s going to have to throw them in Jo’s compost bin. He’ll hold out for a few more days before doing that. The Halloween decorations don’t come down for _at least_ a week after the actual date. Then it’s time to dig out the Christmas decorations and have those on standby for the first of December.

Once he’s got the leftover candy stashed away in the kitchen, Dean heads upstairs to change out of his costume. Charlie already left for the party to scope it out for him. So far, she hasn’t texted him any details like she was supposed to. She probably got caught up with looking at all the sexy cats and nurses that come out to play once a year. Either that or she ended up going to a different party. Their LARPing group was putting on something tonight too, but Dean didn’t make any commitments to go – even though he is the only one who carries the honour of being the Queen’s handmaiden.

He fires a text off to Charlie to find out how things are going and spends the next few minutes changing out of his costume. The flower one that his mom made turned out _way_ better than he thought it would. It’s still lame as all hell, but at least it looks halfway decent. Those extra two hours that mom asked of earlier was so she could sew him a collar with some felt leaves that hang around his shoulders. Despite her hard work, Dean still feels absolutely _ridiculous_ once he puts the headband with the petals on.

Balthazar better not be taking the piss with him about this costume, or Dean is going to punch that smug Fae right on his stupid nose. He is going to be _so fucking mad_ if he walks into the party and Sam’s coworkers (and one of his _bosses_ ) start to laugh at him. It’s already hard enough to cope with the fact that a bunch of different people are going to be taking pictures at this party and only God knows how many of them are going to have evidence of him in this costume.

Thank God that the headband is too big for him to wear in the car. He would probably die if he pulled past someone on the road and all they saw was an incredibly attractive flower looking at them through the window. Also, he can hide it under his shirt when he walks from the station to the café. Dean totally abuses his parking spot whenever he has to come to anywhere on Main Street. It’s just so much easier to park there and walk instead of trying to find a space, let alone having to actually _pay_ for parking.

And, because Nick is working the shift today, Dean makes sure to hide his headband under his coat before he gets out of the car. The coat also hides his leafy collar. If Nick knew he was going to be a flower tonight, Dean would _never_ hear the end of it. Ever. For the rest of his life. He would have to move countries to escape the epic levels of teasing he would receive. It would be literally a _nightmare_.

It’s at the door of the café that Dean decides he should be safe enough to put the headband on. He even takes off his coat before going inside, hoping to hell that he doesn’t walk in to uproariously loud amount of laughter that only starts when he walks in. Thank God that doesn’t happen, though. Dean gets two steps in the door and no one even looks at him. He, however, does plenty of looking and it doesn’t take too long to realize the exact reason why Balthazar wanted him to be a flower.

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen and standing right next to Gabriel, Dean can see it plain as day. And now he’s not sure if he wants to punch Balthazar in the face or not. On one hand, Dean now has a matching costume with his crush. On that same hand, his crush is dressed in the most goddamn adorable _bee_ costume Dean has ever seen. On the other hand, he’s wearing a _matching costume_ with his _crush_ in front of _everyone_. If he wanted a great big neon sign about his feelings for Cas, this is it.

Shit, Dean needs to get out of in front of the door before someone notices he’s starting to blush. Fuck. Distraction time. Where can he found one? Ah-hah! Family! Sam is standing by the base of the stairs with their parents and there’s nothing like greeting family to hide himself and not stick out like a sore thumb. There are so many people wearing things on their head that his flower headband doesn’t stand out that much, thank God.

Okay, Dean takes all that back just because of the look Sam gives him. “Nice petals, bro.”

“You’re one to talk with your stupid antlers.” He punches Sam in the shoulder and leans in to kiss his mom on the cheek. “Nice head buns, mom. You’re looking great again this year.”

This is, like, the fifth year in a row that his parents have dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo. Though it’s just a whole bunch of weird that they’re dressed as two characters that Dean has had _massive_ crushes on while growing up. That more or less transferred over to Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford over the years, but _still_. It’s just _awkward_.

Dad sighs loudly and puts his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “I tried so hard to convince her to wear the metal bikini.”

Nope. No thank you. That is not a mental image Dean needs. “Dad, that’s my _mom_ you’re talking about!” Dean shudders and shakes his head. Leia and Han have officially been ruined for him forever.

That gets a good laugh out of everyone. As nice as that is, Dean still has the hibbity jibbities from the conversation, so he doesn’t stick around talking with them for too long. He migrates away after a short bit, looking for a safe place to put his coat. There’s nothing important in the pockets, since his phone and wallet are in his pants, but he doesn’t really want to just leave it lying around.

While he’s looking, his migration eventually leads him towards the station group where they’re just hanging out towards one corner by the counter and windows. All the tables that usually fill the floor are pushed up against the wall and out of the way. It opens up the whole café and even though it’s not _that_ big of a space, there are definitely people dancing to the tunes. The lights have been lowered a bit, and it’s made just the perfect kind of party atmosphere. Gabriel and Balthazar clearly knew what they were doing when they were setting everything up.

Even talking with his friends is just to bide his time. Cas is busy with a whole bunch of customers and Dean doesn’t want to just walk over and start talking to him. It looks like he might not even get the chance to have a proper conversation with Cas tonight, if only because of all the customers. That’s kinda shitty, but Dean should have expected it. Didn’t Cas say that he was going to stick behind the counter all night? He’s not one for big parties like this.

Honestly, Dean might dragging his feet on going over there for other reasons. His friends and coworkers are already teasing him a whole hell of a lot for his flower costume, which isn’t ideal but it’s alright. He can handle that shit. What he can’t handle is if he goes over to the counter to find out that Cas might be annoyed at him for wearing a matching costume. The chances of that are pretty high, given how unhappy Cas looks right now.

Whenever Cas is talking with a customer, he’s got a smile on his face. But as soon as they step away, his smile falls into a frown and he keeps glaring down at his cash register. Cas is flat out _not_ in a good mood, and Dean doesn’t want to know whether it’s because of him and his costume or not. Yeah, that’s not something he’s itchy to find out. He’s pretty good with just standing here and making small talk with his friends.

Or, at least until Charlie elbows him in the side and holds out her cup. “Go top me up with a rub and coke, and get yourself a damn drink already.”

Dean takes her cup and glances around. There are bottles of booze scattered across the counter, along with several bottles of pop. From what he can tell, it’s a free for all there. Some people are even adding the mix-ins to whatever they order from Cas. There’s a cleared space on the counter where he assumes the pizza is going to go, and that means that this little group is going to have to move eventually whenever that gets here.

Well, he might as well get himself something to drink. Since he drove here, it’s going to have to be non-alcoholic. First, he tops off Charlie’s drink and brings it back to her. Since she’s dressed as the Queen of Moondoor, he can’t really refuse her. Her LARP gear is her back up costume whenever she doesn’t have the time or the money to get something awesome prepared. Dean takes his time with doing that before he _finally_ drags himself over to say hello to Cas.

When Cas looks up from the register, his frown morphs into the first honest smile Dean’s seen him give since he got here. It’s an instant catharsis for every worry he had for coming over and talking to him. Because this is the kind of smile that Dean is used to seeing whenever he walks in on a normal night. It’s genuine and he can’t imagine anything but Cas being happy to see him.

Even though he’s not worried anymore, he still feels a bit too awkward about their costume choices for the evening. Dean clears his throat and coughs, his smile a little shaky. “So, a bee, huh?”

“And you’re a flower.” Cas nods, but his smile falls a little. Thank God that it’s not directed at Dean though. Instead, Cas turns a squinty frown at somewhere over his shoulder. “I’ve come to the understanding that Balthazar put you up to this. I’m sorry that he dragged you into it.”

Fuck. So Cas’s frowns really were all about this. “I _swear_ that I didn’t know the reason why when he threatened me into it.” Dean’s heart sinks a little and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry if this is, like, _weird_ or something.”

Cas sighs and shakes his head. “It’s fine. Let them play their jokes.” He shrugs and tilts his head with a _what’cha-gonna-do_ kind of smile. “Is there anything you would like to order?”

Good question. Dean looks up to eye the menu. There’s nothing really tickling his fancy right now. “Uhhhhh – I guess I’ll take a black drip, no espresso this time. I’ve gotta actually _sleep_ tonight.”

“Do you want to make it an Irish coffee?” He gestures at the alcohol on the counter. “You just need to add that, but I’ll make it with the sugar and whipped topping.”

Tempting, but he really shouldn’t. “Nah, normal is fine for me. I’ve had enough sugar tonight.”

Cas pauses with typing in the order and looks at Dean from over the top of his glasses. “Did you eat half the candy you were supposed to be handing out?”

Dean can feel his ears start to grow hot. “Not _half_.” But it was definitely at least a quarter.

On the bright side, that gets a small huff of laughter out of Cas. He takes Dean’s handful of change and takes the order Tessa hands him. “Will you be adding anything to this at all?”

“Nope.” It’s not a night for booze for him. “I got work in the morning and it’s a _lot_ easier without a hangover.” Not to mention there’s that whole driving thing.

He has to shuffle his coat to his non-dominant arm so he can take the coffee Cas holds out. That just reminds him that he’s still trying to find a good place for the damn thing. “Hey, do you guys have a place where you’re putting coats or something?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Cas shakes his head and glances around. “If you want, you can leave it behind the counter with me. I promise we won’t spill anything on it.”

“You’re the best.” Dean hands over his coat without another thought and steps out of the way so other customers can get to the counter. He watches Cas put his coat on a stool in the corner and gives him a thumbs up as thanks.

Instead of heading back to his group, Dean stays at the counter and waits. He enjoys talking with Cas and he wants to catch up with him about the party. That’s not really possible while Cas is dealing with customers, but it’s not like they’re a steady stream of them. Dean just needs to wait for a break in the flow before he can lean his hip against the counter and strike up another conversation.

Thankfully, the gaps are longer than anything else and Dean doesn’t have to wait for long. “So, how’s the party been so far? Lots of business?”

“More so earlier on before the alcohol counter grew in number.” Cas shrugs and crouches under the counter. He stands up with the cat in his arms and puts her down next to the register. “I have some good news, though!”

His initial reaction to the cat dressed up as a ladybug is to laugh. It’s a hard snort that nearly makes him spill his coffee, but holy _shit_. Dean did _not_ expect Cas to dress the cat up too. He shouldn’t be so surprised though. From what he knows of Cas, it feels like a very _him_ thing to do.

Cas huffs and puts Dean on the end of his squinty frown. Apparently he didn’t appreciate the laugh very much. But that fades back into a smile when Dean reaches over to scratch her under the chin as a hello. It’s pretty nice to be in the company of a cat and not sneeze every five seconds.

“Hey, kitty. I didn’t know you were going to be at this party.”

“Of course she would be.” Cas runs his hands over her tail and graces Dean with an honest-to-goodness _dazzling_ smile. “She’s _family_ now and I would like to introduce you to Nike Novak.”

Knee-kay? Well, that’s a new name he’s never heard of before. It must be foreign, or maybe it’s related to whatever it is that Cas is? Oh, wow. Dean hasn’t thought about _that_ in a while. There isn’t much about Cas that shows that he’s a Creature to the point that Dean almost forgot entirely about it. He’s about mostly leaning towards Cas being a Vampire, but there’s still a part of him that has its doubts.

Never mind that, though. There are other things to think about and Dean leans down to take the cat’s paw in his hand and give it a little shake. “It’s very nice to meet you, Nike. You’ve got yourself a great owner here. Try not to make things too hard on him, okay?”

Nike pulls her paw free and tucks her paws underneath herself. It’s kinda cute and Dean stands back up with a laugh. “How’s she handling the party?”

“Better than I thought.” Cas continues to pet her tail where it twitches back and forth on the counter. “She hasn’t ventured out from behind the counters. I think she knows that she’s safe from all the feet back here.”

“Smart cat.” He pats her on the head and turns to look at the crowd. “You got a decent amount here. Though the kids I saw tonight had better costumes than half these guys.”

“Oh?”

Cas steps back over to the cash register to help a customer and Dean waits until he’s done before he launches into talking about the kids in detail. There were so many different costumes – some good, and some _really_ bad, and Dean had a bunch of fun talking to them like the King of Gondor would. There was laughter and grandeur and all sorts of fun. This was a _good_ Halloween and Dean is kinda sad that it’s going to be over in the morning.

During the conversation, he digs out his phone to show Cas pictures of what his decorations looked like. It’s mostly to show off how great the pumpkins turned out, and that he got some compliments on them from the parents of the kids. Everything came out perfect and Dean is more than a little bit proud of how well things went.

“It sounds like you had a lot of fun.”

“I did!” He tucks his phone away and steps out of the way of someone trying to get at some of the napkins. “Since you live in an apartment, I guess you don’t really get to hand out candy, huh?”

His answer is delayed as Cas has to deal with another few customers. As soon as they’re out of the way, Cas turns back to Dean with a shrug. “I’ve actually never handed out candy before. I moved from a house to an apartment when I got too old to go Trick or Treating.”

There’s a sad look to his eyes as Cas turns back around to help Tessa with making some more coffee and clearing up the cups on the counter. It gives Dean a chance to think on this new information he just received. So, Cas has lived in an apartment since he was probably around twelve or thirteen years old. Whatever happened at that point isn’t a happy memory from him, as far as Dean can tell. Probably something to do with his parents – either they got a divorce, or went bankrupt. That’s the only reason Dean can think of for why Cas’s family would downgrade a living space like that. In fact, he’s kinda _hoping_ it’s one of those two reasons. Otherwise, it means death was involved and that is just no bueno for everyone involved.

Once he has Cas’s attention again, Dean gives him a shrug and a hopeful smile. “Well, maybe you could hand out candies next year?”

Cas shakes his head and opens the cash drawer to start counting out the big bills. “I doubt I could. I have no plans to move out of my apartment in the next year.”

It sounds like someone is trying to be a bit of a Debbie Downer. Time for Dean to put on his optimism pants and bring Cas back to a smile. “I dunno, man. Maybe you’ll move out of your own place by then. It’s not like you’re gonna live with your brother forever, right?”

“Possibly.”

That’s not the answer Dean was expecting. And he also doesn’t like the way that Cas’s shoulders tense up a little more. These are apparently a line of questions that he doesn’t like too much. Alright then, time to change the subject. But it shouldn’t be too far off from what they’re talking about, otherwise it’s going to be obvious that he’s trying to change the subject and that isn’t going to help anything.

He sidesteps another customer to let them get around to the counter again, using that time to think of something new to talk about. Oh! Why not use this as an option to satisfy his insatiable curiosity when it comes to learning things about Cas?

“Hey, Cas?” Dean starts, but almost loses the rest of his questions as someone bumps into him from behind. “How old are you?”

Cas looks up from putting a bunch of money into a little ziplock baggy. “Does that matter?”

“Not really. Just personal curiosity.” And Dean is praying _hard_ , hoping that it doesn’t give him away as being interested in Cas or anything.

For a long moment, Cas stares him down. After a while, he sighs and hip-checks the cash drawer closed. “I turned twenty-six in September.”

Shit, seriously? “Dude, you’re four years older than me.” Dean would _not_ have pegged him as being on the other side of twenty-five. But, actually, that makes a lot of sense. There can’t be a whole lot of café owners younger than that.

That seems to catch Cas by surprise too. His eyes get a little wider and he looks Dean over from head to toe – or what he can see of him with the counter in the way. “You’re rather young for a firefighter, aren’t you?”

Yeah, that’s not the first time Dean’s heard that before. “Not if I aced all my tests and everything right out of high school.” Which he did, because he is _awesome_. And he completed those exams with top marks too, just like he did with school.

Cas cracks a smile again just before he disappears into the kitchen, probably to make a cash drop. Dean worked his way through high school at a gas station and he knows the deal. The café probably has a safe somewhere in the kitchen where they can request change or put their excess cash from the till. While Cas is gone, Dean tries to find a place near the register that he can stand without having to constantly be jostled by other party goers. It’s a little hard because the place is the very definition of _crowded_ , even with people standing on the stairs and going outside to the patio.

When Cas comes back, he takes one look at Dean and pulls the stool out from the wall. He puts it next to the door to the kitchen and gestures at it. “Sit here.”

Dean can’t do much more than blink at him because what? “That’s the other side of the counter.” And customers aren’t allowed back there.

“You were in the kitchen last week. How is this any different?” Cas shrugs and moves Dean’s coat to hang on the corner of a shelving unit. “If you plan to stay and talk to me for longer, this will be a safer spot for you.”

Okay. So, even though he said if _Dean_ plans to stay, Dean is pretty sure that Cas is doing this because _he_ wants him to stay. Or, at least, he hopes that’s the case. And since Cas is being so insistent, it would be rude of him not to sit and stay. Dean totally gets a little thrill with getting to go around the counter when no one else does. He sits with his back against the wall and Cas stays half turned to keep talking with him while still dealing with customers wanting something sweet or needing a coffee to help themselves sober up.

Their conversation picks up again, but with an entirely new topic now. This time they’re focused on books again. Cas is particularly interested in whether or not Dean’s still enjoying the Elenium trilogy still, and if he’s started book three. Sadly, he hasn’t and that’s entirely Charlie’s fault. On the bright side, Dean also learns through Cas that there’s apparently a sequel trilogy called the Tamuli. That’s _awesome_ news to hear, but Dean can’t believe that Charlie didn’t tell him about that sooner – if she even knows.

Of the people at the party, Dean has counted three Teletubbies. The fourth shows up well before eleven o’clock and relieves Cas from the cash register earlier than expected, apparently. Dean knows him as Kevin, the student who works overnight weekends. Tessa is also a Teletubbie, and Dean’s making an educated guess that the other two also work for Cas. It’s kinda cute that they coordinated their costumes together like that. It kinda makes it less awkward that he and Cas as kinda coordinated too.

On the bright side, now that Kevin is here, it frees Cas up to lean against the wall next to Dean and give him his full attention. Nike leaves the counter to meow at Cas’s feet, clearly not liking that she’s been excluded from their little pow wow. She even does that thing where she stands on her back legs and puts her paws up on Cas’s leg. When Bones does that, it’s because he’s excited to see you. Dean’s guessing that it has a different meaning with cats.

Cas picks her up and holds her for a few minutes until she starts squirming in his arms. His response to that is to put her right in Dean’s lap, for what little of it there is. It means Dean can’t sit with his legs spread too much. That’s fine, though. Nike seems used to it. She settles on one thigh and puts most of her weight against his stomach. He can actually _feel_ her purring through his shirt. It’s actually kinda nice. If it weren’t for his allergies, Dean might consider getting a cat. There’s significantly less drool than a dog, that’s for sure.

It’s around that time when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Without disturbing Nike, Dean manages to fish it out. There’s a text from his mom including a picture attachment. He damn near swallows his tongue when he opens it to find a picture of him and Cas from what has to be a few minutes ago. They’re sitting and standing close together so they can hear each other over the music and the general hubbub of a crowd. In the picture, Dean is looking up at Cas while they’re talking. It’s actually a really nice picture, but it’s the message that makes him blush.

**_You two look cute!_ **

Son of a bitch. Does she know? She can’t know. Maybe she’s just commenting on the fact that their costumes go together? That’s gotta be it because Dean has decidedly and most definitely _not_ come out to his parents yet about the fact that he likes guys too. Oh _Jesus_. He hasn’t come out to them and he’s been totally one hundred percent flirting with Cas since he walked up to the counter. His flirting is subtle as hell and might be mistaken for regular friendliness, but everything Dean does is to try and get Cas to like him so – yeah. Shit.

Well, he might as well show Cas the picture. But he needs to hide that message first, and he does that by full screening the picture and holding his phone out for Cas to see. “Look what my Mom just sent me.”

Cas leans in closer and his eyebrows rise slowly. “Oh. That looks nice.”

“Do you want a copy of it?” Dean tries really hard not to fidget or lick his lips or do anything that shows that he’s feeling super fucking awkward for asking that question.

His eyes flick up from the picture and Dean slaps on a hopeful smile. Cas doesn’t have to take him up on the option, but if he does then that would be a good thing, right? Maybe? Oh God, who the fuck knows. If Cas doesn’t want it, then there’s no shame in that.

“Are you going to e-mail it to me?” Cas tilts his head slightly and stands straight again.

Oh, yeah, well obviously that’s what he could do. He does have the café’s e-mail. But that means Gabriel will get it too and if he sees it, only God knows how much teasing would come out of that. He and Balthazar have already _heavily_ hinted that they know he’s the one who’s leaving the origami. Y’know, fuck it. He’s going to take the goddamn plunge right now.

“I could, or, y’know –” Dean takes a deep breath and throws the idea out there. “Maybe I could text it to you instead?”

This time it’s only one of Cas’s eyebrows that goes up. Dean doesn’t miss how he also takes a quick side glance out at the crowd as if he’s looking for someone. It’s all the more obvious that he doesn’t want someone to overhear, because the next thing he says is in a low whisper. “Dean, are you asking for my phone number?”

Fuck. Why did he have to say it outright like that? Now Dean is pretty sure that he can literally _taste_ his heart and there’s a massive fucking lump sitting in his throat. He has to swallow around it to get out any actual words. “I – Maybe? I mean, if you wanna exchange ‘em, that is.” Dean shrugs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “We could talk more about books and stuff. Or, I dunno, I think it would be cool to hang out with you outside of being your customer and – yeah.”

Goddammit, now he’s rambling. Please, God, someone shut him the fuck up. “Last weekend was fun, so I thought – just –” _Retreat_. “I dunno. Never mind. I’ll just send it by e-mail.”

Instead of suffering under the squinty look of doom, he chooses to focuses on his phone and starts the process of saving the image to his phone before he can add it as an attachment to an e-mail. Dean gets to the point where he can type in the e-mail address when Cas plucks the phone from his hands. He looks up and watches, mouth open, as Cas fiddles with it for a short bit before handing it back. Is it too much to hope that he put his number in instead of just typing the e-mail for him?

Dean honest to God holds his breath as he peeks at the screen to see what Cas did. His heart damn near stops when he sees that the phonebook is open and right there under the ‘ _C_ ’ section is a new entry: _Castiel Novak_. There’s a phone number, and a personal e-mail address, and oh sweet pie _Dean just got Cas’s phone number_. Hope is alive and thriving and the world is rosy and bright. This is the best thing ever and he needs someone to tell him right now if he’s smiling like a fucking lunatic or not.

It takes three separate tries to get his thumb to hit the right buttons and send Cas an emoji of a flower. Just for shits and giggles, and to make sure that he’s not being fucked with here and it’s a fake number or something. A few seconds later, Cas’s phone bings from under the counter and Kevin hands it back to him. Cas glances at the screen and a smile makes his nose crinkle. After a few taps and another handful of seconds, Dean gets a ladybug in response.

Holy shit, this is real. This is actually happening. This is Cas’s phone number and in giving it he’s agreed that he would like to see more of Dean too. They could feasibly go out together and have pizza, or see a movie, or find a dark place to pull Dean’s car over in and make out like teenagers. Okay, that last one is less likely and wasn’t really on the board to begin with, but it’s still a damn good idea and Dean would be _totally_ down for it.

This is a step in the right direction and Dean is happy as all hell to have it. He has to physically hold himself back from whistling as he sends Cas the promised picture. Dean waits for the perfect opportunity before he holds up his phone and takes a picture of Cas in his bee costume. It’s only from the shoulders up, but he’s got the antennae, and the wings in the picture and it’s pretty perfect. Cas, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think so. He frowns at Dean while he takes his time with setting it as his display picture.

In retaliation, Cas takes a picture of Dean with his stupid flower collar and headband, and puts that as his display picture too. They’ll both probably change them someday, but it’s fucking great right now. For as serious as he tries to look at the moment, Cas still has a smile at the edge of his mouth. It looks like he’s actually enjoying himself and Dean couldn’t stop himself from grinning if he wanted to.

There is literally nothing that could ruin this night for him now because he’s got Cas’s phone number and that’s the greatest fucking thing _ever_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_** ** _

  **_Friday – November 6_ ** **_th_ ** **_, 2015_ **

Castiel knew that this was something that could happen after starting a job where he's surrounded by baked goods and coffee. He knew it might happen, and he should have had precautions in place so it wouldn't, but it has. When he woke up this evening, he weighed himself after his morning ritual and found that he's gained more pounds than he's comfortable with. There's a pudge around his belly now and he isn't happy with it.

While he believes all bodies are beautiful in their own ways, Castiel just much prefers his own to be rather fit. Though he's not really a stickler for exercise, he does like to keep in shape for various reasons. In particular, he wants to be in ready in case he bumps into anyone on the street that he needs to run from – especially _Witches_. He won't be able to get away as quickly if he lets himself get lazy and continues to eat more treats than he burns off. 

His sporadic walks are worse in the winter and now it's become obvious that they're apparently not enough to keep him fit like he was _before_ they opened the café. Even though Gabriel has been baking sweets for ages, Castiel didn't eat as many back then. In fact, _Gabriel_ was the one who ate the majority of everything he made. It's just an entirely different situation when Castiel is working next to a display case full of them for a whole eight hours and doesn't often have all that much to do _besides_ eat.

As such, Castiel decided that before he eats breakfast, he would do a little bit of exercise to try and deal with that pudge. Which is why he's on the floor between the TV and the coffee table and he's doing sit ups. Gabriel has the TV playing and he's sitting on the couch with his feet up on the table and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Even Nike has joined them, however she is in a much more antagonistic position. She has elected to sit by where Castiel's head is whenever he's lying down and attempts to smack him in the forehead if he doesn't sit up again quick enough. It's rather fun and Castiel makes the effort to blow air at her or bop her right back.

"Do you _have_ to do that while I'm watching my shows?" Gabriel throws a piece of popcorn at him and it bounces off Castiel's knee. Nike immediately chases after it and Castiel rolls onto his side to grab it from under the coffee table before she can eat it.

He throws it back at Gabriel and returns to his sit ups. "I'm only doing ten minutes of exercises. You can tolerate it for that long."

Gabriel huffs and slouches deeper onto the couch. "You're making my abs hurt."

"I'm surprised you even have any with the amount of sugar that you eat." Castiel throws him a smug grin the next time he sits ups and touches his elbows to his knees.

That causes Gabriel to sit up sharply, nearly knocking his bowl of popcorn to the floor. "Are you insinuating what I _think_ you're insinuating?"

"I would never." Primarily because Castiel doesn't like calling people things that they're not. Although he does enjoy teasing his brother to no end. Besides, it doesn't matter how heavy you are, you still have abs. They're just more hidden than they could be for others.

By some miracle, Gabriel is one of those lucky few who can eat whatever they want and never seem to gain an ounce. He's stockier than Castiel is, but by no stretch of the imagination would he ever be considered on the _heavy_ side of the weight spectrum for someone of his height. Honestly, Castiel is a little envious of him. If he could be as lazy as he sometimes wants to be and still eat whatever he wants without suffering the consequences of such a lifestyle, he would likely do it in a heartbeat.

Apparently Gabriel feels that Castiel's teasing is unacceptable and deems it necessary to deliver some punishment. In this case, it involves a pillow to the face the next time he sits up. That's enough of a disruption for Castiel to forget the rest of his exercises. He gets to his knees and throws the pillow back with deadly accuracy, prepared for further retaliation because _of course_ Gabriel is going to do something in return.

To be quite honest, he wasn't really expecting him to vault the coffee table and bodily tackle Castiel to the floor. Gabriel attacks now with two pillows in his hands and takes up position on top of him, attempting a windmill motion to continuously smack him with the pillows. In Castiel's struggles to deflect the fluffy weapons, the coffee table gets kicked into the couch. Nike meows in surprise and bolts across their small living room to hide underneath the desk.

A wrestling match of epic proportions follows Gabriel's attack. It lasts for an unknown amount of time and a few bruises are incurred during the period of pillow warfare. Unfortunately, casualties do occur, although it doesn’t stop them from rolling around and wrestling with one another. This time, the casualties are a few plants that happen to get knocked over. Thankfully, it will only take a few of Gabriel's spells to clean them up as good as new. Magic makes cleaning up messes like that exceptionally easy and Castiel is eternally grateful that one of them knows the spells to do it.

The only thing that brings their wrestling to an official end is the text tone on Castiel's phone. He could have ended things with his superior strength at any time, but he likes to let Gabriel think he has a chance and humour him for a while. If he had put more effort in, then perhaps he might have been the first to reach his phone. In this particular case, Gabriel is confident enough to attempt to smother Castiel with a pillow so he can successfully get his grubby hands on the phone first.

"It's your new best friend!" He cackles with delight and rolls away to give himself the time to actually open the message and read it.

"Give me that!" Castiel gets up after him, vowing to put a pass code on his phone now that he actually has someone messaging him who _isn't_ related to him.

Previously, Gabriel was the only one who would message him regularly. On the rare occasion, one of their employees might text him. But they've only been open for a few months and the only time he got a message from an employee was one weekend when Kevin thought he might be late because of an issue with his ride. He ended up not being late, but it was still nice that he felt the need to notify his employers along with Tessa.

"He says that he's started reading _The Sapphire Rose_ – whatever that is." Gabriel dances up on the couch and holds the phone above his head. "And apparently he's just _loving_ it so far."

Castiel pulls the coffee table out of the way and tries reaching for his phone. "Gabriel, give it _back_."

Of course that doesn't work. There is no tone in the world that would make Gabriel actually listen. "Oh look, another message! He says he hopes that you have a good shift tonight and that you won't be too bored _without him_."

The glee in his voice is the last straw. Castiel hates to do it, but he uses his creature strength to pull Gabriel down from his perch on the couch. With no effort at all, he wrestles him to the ground and pins him on his stomach. He sits across Gabriel's back and plucks the phone from his hands. After a quick review of his messages, Castiel reaches down to pinch Gabriel in the sides. Dean didn't write anything of the sort about being bored tonight without him. Apparently Gabriel just felt the need to be an utter jackass and tease him for giving Dean his phone number in the first place.

It's been a week since the Halloween party and he's likely never going to hear the end of the teasing. Gabriel spent the night after the party passed out drunk on his bed, and that's quite the feat given that the party went for an obscenely long time. They didn't really have an end decided for it and, since the café never closes, the party just continued until it was apparent that everyone had left and they had run out of food to give. Castiel made the choice to stay behind and help Kevin clean up, and he's glad he did. It meant he didn't have to listen to Gabriel throwing up his poor decisions in the bathroom.

"Get off. Get off!" Gabriel kicks and flails under him, but Castiel doesn't budge as he takes the time to type out a response to Dean's message.

Now that the thrashing about has ended, Nike emerges from her hiding place and starts to pounce and nip at Gabriel's fingers. He starts flailing and complaining even more, but Castiel ignores it while he send his message. "Good girl, Nike."

**_I'm glad to hear you're enjoying the books. I hope to start reading The Elenium soon so we can talk about it more. Sleep well and enjoy your shift tomorrow._ **

Castiel has to admit that he's surprised himself with how easy he's fallen into these short conversations with Dean. It had been a little daunting to find that, in the week since they exchanged numbers, he’s received a message almost every day. Sunday morning it was a message hoping the cleanup after the party wasn’t too bad and wishing him a good sleep. Castiel has responded appropriately and didn’t hear from Dean again until shortly after midnight when Dean asked if there was any pie available.

The messages he sends are short and to the point. Mostly observations than actual conversations.  They’re the kind that Castiel doesn’t have any social requirement to actually answer. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he doesn’t. Dean hasn’t complained yet, so things must be going well, right? Hopefully. Even though it was a spur of the moment decision to share his cell phone number, he really does want to at least _try_ this friendship thing.

As for what Balthazar and Gabriel repeatedly tease him for or outright claim regarding Dean’s true intentions… Well, he’s just going to ignore them for now. If Dean ever outright says that he’s interested in him in a different capacity, then and _only_ then will Castiel decide on how to handle the situation. He already knows that no matter what his personal feelings might become in the future, he absolutely cannot reciprocate anyone’s feelings. It’s just not safe for them and he would _hate_ himself if anything was to happen to someone because he was selfish enough to act on his feelings.  

For now, he’s just going to continue to treat his relationship with Dean as nothing more than what he sees on the surface. At best, they’re tenuous friends at the moment. He’s just not equipped to deal with anything else beyond that. Friendship itself is still a rocky and somewhat foreign area to him.

Gabriel slaps his hands on the floor. “Uncle, Cassie, uncle! I give!”

Oh. It appears he’s victorious. Castiel tucks his phone away and gets to his feet. He’s even a generous enough winner to help Gabriel up too. “As punishment for your misdoings, you get to clean up the living room while I shower.”

His work out is incomplete, but he doesn’t really feel like getting back to it now. In the future, he might just do it in his bedroom to avoid any further incidents like this. Gabriel sticks his tongue out at him and Castiel rolls his eyes. It’s not below him to stick his tongue out in return before turning away, effectively giving _him_ the last word. Nike meows and follows at his heels right into the washroom.

It’s only in the last week, since he’s allowed her to roam freely in the apartment, that he’s discovered her penchant to join him with his showers. She doesn’t get into the tub with him, but she does like to sit on the edge of the tub between the curtain and the liner. If she’s not simply observing him, then she’s slapping at stray water droplets or playing with the edge of the curtain. Once or twice now she’s managed to get on top of the cabinet above the toilet, but not while Castiel has actually been showering. He’s not sure he’d much like the idea of her sitting above his head and watching him bathe.

Nike settles herself in the bowl of the bathroom sink while Castiel gets his towels laid out and the water heated to an acceptable degree. She lays on her back with all four paws in the air and looks as pleased with herself as a cat can be.

“You are _so_ weird.” He makes the comment offhandedly while changing out of his clothes. It comes as no surprise that she doesn’t seem to care. “But I love you anyways.”

A purr starts to rumble from the sink and Castiel can’t resist reaching and giving her belly a quick scratch. Nike’s fur is coming in thick and soft after her shave and it’s sometimes difficult to stop himself from touching her almost constantly. She’s such a gorgeous cat and far too friendly to have ever been a stray. He’s convinced that she _must_ have belonged to someone, but she’s his now and that’s what matters the most.

Since he can’t allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, he’s just going to have to funnel all his love and desires to take care of someone into the cat.

*

The hands on the clock show that it’s barely past midnight when Chuck shuffles his way into the café. He already looks haggard and Castiel wonders just how many deadlines he has to meet to look like that. Well, there’s only one thing he can do to help. The notepad is already sitting next to the cash register and he quickly writes down Chuck’s name and makes a mark underneath it. While Chuck is busy with setting up his laptop and binders, Castiel finds one of their biggest mugs and pours him a coffee.

He makes his way over and places the mug next to the laptop. “Here you go. I’ve already started your tab for the night. Would you like any baked goods right now?”

Chuck hasn’t even sat down yet, but he sinks into the chair with a happy sigh and drags the coffee over. “This – _This_ is why I love this place.”

Castiel tilts his head, finding a shred of amusement in that statement. “And not because every employee seems to be named after the characters in your books?” He hums a laugh at his own little joke.

Almost immediately, Chuck’s shoulders stiffen and he lowers the mug from his lips. “Oh, right.” He glances up again, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. “About that. You – um – you remember how that Fae employee suggested that I look into the history for my family?”

“Of course.” There isn’t much about that night that Castiel doesn’t remember. Rarely has anyone left such a memorable first impression as he did.

“Well –” Chuck twists his mug between his hands and shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve decided to actually look into it. I’ve got my GramGram on the case since she’s got family records going back, like, _forever_.”

Oh. That wasn’t exactly what Castiel was expecting to hear. With how Chuck had started, he assumed that his was going to hear the results. It’s a tad disappointing, but he’s still happy to hear that Chuck is trying to get to the bottom of this particular puzzle. “I hope you find out something interesting.”

“Me too.” He sags back in his chair with another loud sigh. “It would explain a hell of a lot if I did end up having some kind of Creature blood in me somewhere. I just hope it’s nothing _dangerous_.”

Chuck looks up at him with a shaky smile, and the only thing Castiel can do is put a comforting hand on his shoulder and smile back. “If it’s any help, Balthazar believes that you have some Seer in you. Have you tried inducing a _vision_ of any kind? Aside from the ones that you seem to have while you’re dreaming, of course.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start with that.” He takes another sip of his coffee and stares at the loading screen on his laptop. “I haven’t exactly researched into Seers for anything I’ve written before.”

That’s completely understandable. Not everyone has such an invested interest in Creatures as Castiel does. The only reason he knows as much about Seers as he does is because of the research that he and Gabriel did into them. They were hoping to find a Seer or something about them that they could replicate with magic. If they could use such a spell or power to find the Coven that killed their parents, they could give that information over to the FBI and they would feel just that little bit safer. But such a spell would have to be _extremely_ powerful to break through the wards around the Coven.

“From my understanding of what I’ve read up on it, most induced visions are had by using a focus. That’s why fortune tellers and readers need to use crystal balls to help when they scry. They don’t have the natural ability to _see_ like a Seer does.” Castiel tilts his head back and closes his eyes, searching through his memory storage for all the information he knows is there. “I believe they used to have the one they were doing the reading for touch the focus or concentrate on it to help their vision be more concise.”

When he looks down again, it’s to find Chuck staring up at him with a mystified look on his face. “Where did you learn all that?”

“Books.” He shrugs and looks away, heat starting to warm his ears. “The internet. Everywhere. I like learning about the different kinds of Creatures that have disappeared over the years. Things like Seers, Gorgons, Dragon-kin, Unicorns, etcetera.” And it’s best that he sum up the rest of that list in a shrug. His own species is a part of that list and he really shouldn’t bring them up in the case that Chuck might be able to do a little mental math and see through this disguise.

“Hm.” Chuck rubs at his chin and takes another sip of his coffee. “After I’m done with this book, I think I’m going to start some personal research into visions.”

Castiel nods along in agreement until an idea strikes him. “Would you like to try now?”

“What?”

He shrugs again and gestures over his shoulder. “Would you like to try to induce a vision? I want to know the history of the cat I adopted. If I bring her down and you focus on her, you might be able to see what her past was like.”

Chuck stares at him and open and closes his mouth a few times. After a drawn out moment of silence, he shakes his head and looks down at his hands again. “Maybe another time. I want to find out first if it’s even possible for me before I try to mentally molest your cat or something.”

That’s an odd way to put it, but alright then. Castiel shrugs and shakes his head with a smile. “I understand. But if you every want to give it a try, Nike and I are available.” Otherwise it’s likely that he’ll never get a reading done for her. He only _half_ wants to, but he’s too lazy and his curiosity can be easily ignored. It’s just that he absolutely can’t pass up the opportunity to have it done for _free_ by a customer.

“Well at least I don’t have anyone named after your cat in my stories.” He gives a nervous laugh and puts his coffee aside. “Thanks for the info, and the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” With that and a final pat on the shoulder, Castiel returns to the counter and his unfinished cleaning list.

There’s still more than half his cleaning list to get through for the night. It’s only little things, but he wants to finish them as soon as possible. Castiel has a night of origami to look forward to and he’s excited to get to it. His cranes are coming along well, but he’s still far from the needed one thousand to make his wish. After he’s done his ten for the night, his goal is to re-fill the box of dragons. It’s gotten dangerously low lately. If he’s lucky and he works hard, he should be able to fill it up again before the end of his shift. Of course, that depends entirely on whether or not he gets a lot of customers tonight. Normally he doesn’t, but it’s also a Friday night and the bar crowd hasn’t let out yet.

For one brief moment, a stray thought crosses Castiel’s mind, wondering when Dean will be in tonight. He squashes it immediately because it’s such a silly thought to have. Castiel knows for a fact that Dean isn’t working tonight. In fact, he’s probably asleep in bed right now. He’ll attribute such a thought to wishful thinking. If it’s not already obvious to others, Dean is Castiel’s favourite customer. He always looks forward to the days when he stops in. What’s not to like about an amusing customer who makes good conversation whenever he’s here?

Actually, that brings up a question. When will Castiel see him next? He takes a quick moment to do some mental math while he pulls the coffee machine away from the wall to clean behind it. If Dean’s work schedule doesn’t change, then the next time they’ll see each other will likely be two o’clock on Wednesday morning. That feels like forever away and a pant of disappointment slips through his chest. Oh, but that isn’t so bad in the grand scheme of things. Castiel now has Dean’s _phone number_ and he can text or call him whenever he feels like it. Granted, he’s never particularly had the _urge_ to seek out Dean for conversation, but that could very well change now that the opportunity is available to him.

In all fairness, Castiel has actually been enjoying their short conversations had through text message over the last week. Dean is funny and he has quick wit. Of course, Castiel knew all that just from the short periods of time when he’s here. Halloween aside, their interactions have mostly been for periods lasting ten minutes or less. And despite that, Dean’s visits have been a highlight of the overnight shits for a while now.

If asked, Castiel would never admit to it, but he does sometimes wish that Dean would come in more often. That would mean he’d have to come in outside of his usual work schedule, but that selfish desire is still there. Aside from that one time when he woke up too early and had breakfast here, Dean can’t really come in on nights when he doesn’t work but Castiel does. To do so would likely mess with his sleep schedule and it’s imperative that a firefighter been properly rested.

Besides that, Castiel could never actually _ask_ for Dean to come by more often. What if that makes him look clingy and annoying? This tentative friendship between them is too _new_ and unknown for something like that. Although, Castiel does have to admit one thing – privately and never out loud – but Gabriel was _right_ . Having a friend _is_ rather nice.

While there are no regrets to be had over giving Dean his phone number, he does still wonder if it was the right thing to do. And yet, strangely enough, there is also a small part of him that wonders why he didn’t do it sooner. Of course, he knows the reason why he didn’t, but he’s perfectly capable of conveniently ignoring that particular fact. Hopefully Dean will never notice just how many insecurities Castiel has regarding their budding friendship.

He doesn’t regret his actions, but he’s just so _torn_ on the matter of a friendship in the first place. What if he has to move suddenly? There will be so many unanswered questions for Dean, and that’s not fair to him. And how much is Castiel going to miss having a friend if he has to move? It’s been more than thirteen years since that Witches Coven killed his parents and there’s been no hide nor hair of them since. He and Gabriel are trying to make a home here now, but there’s always that one chance that they’ll show up now that witness protection is no longer in effect. Dean might not be in direct danger, but he still stands to be hurt by Castiel’s disappearance if they become close friends.

And that’s not even touching on the matter of species. What is he going to do when – _if_ they reach the point in their friendship when it’s acceptable for Dean to question what kind of Creature he is? That’s something friends are allowed to ask about, isn’t it? Regardless, Castiel won’t be able to give Dean an answer to that question – and that’s for the sake of everyone involved. It’s only a matter of time before that question comes. Maybe Castiel should lie about what he is? Or should he construct a false story about _why_ he can’t tell him?

Honestly, though, Castiel’s species isn’t really anyone’s business but his own. No matter how much he might end up trusting or liking Dean, he has too many years of hiding that information to accidentally let slip what he is. At this rate, he might as well just sit back and hope that Dean is too polite to ever ask about it. That _is_ proper courtesy, after all. Actually, Dean’s been rather good with that. Which is just another reason why he’s Castiel’s favourite customer by far.

And _that_ is something that he can never tell anyone. _Ever_. He would never hear the end of it if he did.

_ _

**_Wednesday - November 11, 2015_**

When was the last time Dean went to the café on a weeknight _without_ a bounce in his step? He’s pretty sure he’s been whistling every time too. It’s just so goddamn exciting for him, even though he never hears how his Saturday origami is received. Last weekend it was a koi fish and that turned out _fantastic_. He was lucky enough to have a paper that kinda looked like fish scales, so he’s pretty damn proud of that one. This week he’s been practicing making a mouse and he’s pretty confident that the final one he makes on Saturday is going to be cute as hell.

There had been maybe a tiny bit of hope that Cas would have said something about it over text, but so far the only one initiating any text conversations is Dean. And _that_ is maybe more than a little be nerve wracking because what if Cas just sees him as being a big annoying bug and he’d rather that Dean just - y’know - _stopped_?

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. He told himself he wasn’t going to think about that. Dean is going to _enjoy_ being friends with Cas. It’s obvious just from talking with him in person that Cas is pretty reserved. Maybe he’s just not all that used to texting someone on the regular? This is just Dean’s personal observations, but he’s pretty sure that Cas doesn’t really _hang out_ with anyone. In the many somewhat short conversations they’ve had over the few months since the café opened, Dean hasn’t once heard anything about Cas going out with other people.

It’s almost like he’s sailing into uncharted territory here. At least, that’s the kind of feeling Dean gets. Either way, this is fun as hell. He hasn’t had this much fun just _talking_ to someone for _ages_ . When was the last time he had to physically struggle with himself from checking his phone every five minutes during the evening? When was the last time he had to purposefully _hide_ his phone so he wouldn’t send a million messages and accidentally make Cas regret giving him his number? It’s just so hard not to because Dean wants to learn everything about him and so far asking questions has been the only way.

Speaking of cell phones, his bings before he even makes it to the café. It’s just a message from Charlie begging him to buy one of a list of pastries if the café has them. Yeah, okay. He can do that. This is just one of the things he has to do now that he’s the one who always goes to the café on a weeknight. Weekends are the only time they actually do the draw to see who’s going to go get the coffee for the night shift. It’s no secret that Dean likes to go on weeknights because of Cas.

There’s still a hum in his throat as he heads into the café. Cas isn’t at the counter and he totally has a brief moment of panic because what if he’s not in tonight? But that clears up almost immediately because Cas is right there on the other side of the café, standing next to a customer with a pot of coffee in his hand. The customer looks like he’s been settled in for a while, given the spread of binders across _two_ tables and the extension cord hanging off the edge so his laptop can stay charged too.

Cas looks up mid-pour and that genuine smile, no matter how small, sets butterflies loose in his stomach. Dean has to take a deep breath to keep himself from keeling over sideways because god _damn_ does Cas look good when he smiles. Quick, he needs a distraction! Nike makes for a good one as she goes streaking by, chasing a paper ball. While cheap and effective, she totally needs some actual toys of her own. Maybe a cat tree in the corner. Dean might not be a cat person, what with his allergies and everything, but he totally believes in the art of spoiling a pet.

That should be a sufficient enough distraction and Dean pulls a hand from his pocket to wave hello. “Hey, Cas. Nice night out, huh?”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas nods in greeting and glances down at the coffee he’s pouring. “It’s been a quiet night so far. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The customer’s shoulders go rigid and he turns in his seat to look at Dean, eyes narrowed slightly. He frowns and shakes his head as he turns the other way to look up at Cas. “Okay, now you’ve _gotta_ be pulling my leg.”

Okay, what? Dean raises an eyebrow and stops in the middle of the café. Did he just walk in on some kind of beef? The guy seemed pretty focused on the work he was doing on his laptop, so why’s he suddenly so upset that Dean is here? It’s been a long time since someone sounded that unhappy to see him, and it’s definitely never happened with a _stranger_ before.

“Castiel _and_ Dean? Now you’re just being cruel.” The guy grumbles and slumps back in his chair, shaking his head the whole time. “It’s weird enough that everyone working here has the same names as my characters, but now you went and got someone to come in just so you could call him _Dean_ in front of me? HOw hard was it to find someone who looks just like I’ve described him too, huh?”

Okay, who the fuck is this guy and why is he talking so familiarly to Cas? How often does this guy come in for Cas to not only pour him his coffee _at his table_ , but to have this guy talk to him like this? Oh God. Oh no. Dean needs to reign himself the fuck in because that’s his _jealousy_ talking and that is _not_ okay. He hates feeling jealous when he’s in a relationship and it’s definitely not okay for him to do it for someone he’s still in the process of befriending.

That still doesn’t stop him from puffing up and walking over to defend both himself and Cas. This attitude the customer is giving is uncool, no matter the situation. “I dunno what you’re talking about, buddy, but my name really is Dean.” He opens his coat and gestures at his t-shirt with the emblem of the firehall on it. “I’m Dean Winchester, Montpelier firefighter. Do you want to see my driver’s license with my name on it as proof? Because I’ve got that too.”

The other customer guy actually pales a little as he twists in his seat again to look at him. “Did you - did you say Dean _Winchester_?”

“Yeah, I definitely did.”

“That - that’s _impossible_.” The guy gives a little laugh that’s basically a nervous giggle.

Cas puts his coffee pot down and puts a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “I assure you, Chuck, there are no lies right now. Dean really is who he says he is.” He glances up at Dean too, looking at him from over the top of his glasses. “Though I’m rather surprised to hear that you used his name too.”

This _Chuck_ guy keeps shaking his head, eyes darting back and forth between Dean and Cas. It looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up and it’s getting a little concerning. Actually, scratch that. This whole conversation is concerning because who the fuck is this guy and what is Dean’s name being used in without his permission? He’s not sure if it’s a good idea or not, but he digs out his wallet and holds it out for Chuck to read, along with his badge that shows he’s a firefighter.

That doesn’t seem to help matters. Chuck just licks his lips and swallows loudly. “Next you’re going to tell me that you’ve got a younger brother named -”

“Sam Winchester?” This is very confusing and not at all what Dean expected to walk in on today. Should he be calling the cops on a stalker or something?

If possible, Chuck actually pales even more and he starts swaying in his seat. “I need to sit down.”

“You _are_ sitting.” And there’s Cas, ever helpful as always.

Alright, that’s enough. This is getting too weird for even Dean. “Someone care to explain to me what in the heck is going on here?” To make his point out how serious he is with some exposition here, he puts his hands on his hips and squares his shoulders like he’s a goddamn superhero.

Cas sighs and he stands up straight again. While Chuck continues to quiver in his seat, Cas gets right into the thick of the situation. He explains in quick, short words about how Chuck is apparently the writer of a book series called _Supernatural_ . After hearing the whole story, Dean is still torn about whether or not he should believe all this. Like, seriously, what are the chances? And if Chuck _does_ have Creature blood in him that gives him these kind of visions, why in the hell would they all be focused on everyone who comes in and out of _The Graveyard Shift_?

He steps in a little closer to Cas and drops his voice into a whisper. “So, this isn’t something that I should be worried about?” Because if this guy knows Sam’s name too, then that’s _definitely_ a cause for concern.

Apparently his whisper wasn’t soft enough, because Chuck definitely heard it. He shakes his head and picks up his coffee mug to hold between both hands. “Far as we know, it’s just a _massive_ coincidence until I find out whether or not I have Creature blood.”

Well, either way, Dean is going to worry about this. Sam actually _works_ here and if they have some kind of stalker writing stories with everyone’s names in it, than that’s fucked up. Even more so because Dean _doesn’t_ work here and his name is apparently in those books too. He’s going to have to look them up and see just how meta this shit goes. The name of the series sounds familiar too, actually. Maybe he’s heard of it before? But from where?

“Well, alright then.” Dean shrugs, but he’s still completely and utterly suspicious of this whole situation. Charlie is going to hear all about it as soon as he gets back to the station, just so he can get her opinion on it. “Hey, Cas, can I get some coffee and stuff before Charlie crawls up my ass for taking too long?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the counter, because he really is starting to push the limit of how long he should stay away from the station.

“Oh!” Cas grabs the coffee pot and starts towards the counter. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He flashes Cas a bright grin and checks the display case. “I’ll take my usual, Charlie’s usual, and three slices of that cherry pie.” Because screw the dainties. _Pie_ is where it’s at and Charlie will damn well eat it.

It’s while listening to Cas pour the first of the coffees that Dean gets hit with the very real realization that his mouth is dry as _hell_. He’s thirsty and a nice cold cup of water actually sounds really great right now. His coffee is on the way, but will that really quench the thirst? How awkward would it be to ask for a cup of water while he waits for Charlie’s foam macchiato with caramel or whatever it is that she gets? Couldn’t hurt to ask. The worst thing Cas could do is tell him he’d have to buy a bottle of water.

“Hey, Cas? Is it - could I get a cup of water while you’re working on the rest of that?”

“Of course.” He steps to the side, pours a paper cup of water from the machine, and hands that over.

“Thanks!” Dean downs it before Cas can even get back to making Charlie’s drink. “I’m, like, _crazy_ thirsty right now.” And he hates it when he feels like this.

Cas looks back over his shoulder at him with a frown. “Did you eat something salty before coming here?”

“Oh yeah, I _definitely_ had something salty.” Before coming over here, Dean totally polished off a whole bowl of pretzels while Charlie was teaching him how to play Magic the Gathering. Apparently he’s just not _nerdy_ enough for her liking. She’s just lucky that everything she introduces him to is fun as fuck.

He’s halfway through his second cup of water after call refilled it when he realizes that he’s on the receiving end of a very weird look. Cas has his head tilted to the side and both eyebrows are raised. If that isn’t a dead give away, he hasn’t turned back to finish with Charlie’s drink.

Shit, now Dean’s feeling self-conscious. Did he dribble? God, don’t let him have _dribbled_ in front of Cas. “What? What’s wrong?”

Cas’s eyebrows drop and he narrows his eyes into a suspicious and kinda chilling squint. The kind of squint that Dewan does _not_ want to be on the receiving end of. “Was that a sexual joke?”

That would have been a spit-take moment if Dean was dumb enough to try for a sip right then. “What? No!” He shakes his head hard enough to cause some whiplash. “It was because of _pretzels_. I hate a ton of them earlier and just - No. Jesus, no.”

“Oh.” Right away, Cas ducks his head with a blush and turns back to the coffee. “I see. Never mind, then.”

Dean downs the second cup of water like it’s a shot of whiskey to try and fix his nerves up some. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s alright. I should’ve specified before I said anything. I mean - I wouldn’t just _make_ a joke like that. We just - I don’t even know if we’re friends enough to start cracking sex jokes yet. And, for the record, I tend to make _a lot_ of them.” Once he’s sure that the person he’s with is cool with those kinda things.

WIth a sigh, Cas just shakes his head and trays the two coffees. There’s a slight smile on his lips as he ties another dragon to Dean’s cup. “Let’s just hold off on that, shall we?”

That sounds perfectly reasonable to him and Dean nods in agreement. “Alright, but just for the record, so I know what’s kosher and what’s not, are you - um - I mean, are you kinda - well -” Shit. How should he word this so he’s not somehow inadvertently insulting Cas?

“Please, just ask, Dean.”

Fuck. He just feels so dumb for saying this, but he’s gotta know before they get any further. “I just -are you a prude? Like, do you not want me to reference or talk about anything that’d give a lady from the eighteen hundreds _the vapours_ or whatever?”

The way Cas stares at him afterward makes Dean want to drop everything and throw himself in traffic. It’s blank and empty and utterly terrifying because what if Cas is about to come out and tell him to delete his phone number because he just realized that a friendship with him is so not worth it? And then Cas laughs. Right there in the middle of Dean’s mental breakdown of a crisis, Cas fucking _laughs_ and it is utterly glorious.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but have you even _met_ my brother?” Cas shakes his head and continues laughing to himself, as if Dean just gave him the funniest joke in the world. “Or Balthazar, for that matter? The two of them practically _thrive_ on sexual innuendos.”

“Oh thank God.” If Dean relaxed any faster, he might just collapse.

“I would say that _our_ friendship had quite reached the point where I won’t find it at least a little odd for you to make those kind of jokes, but it doesn’t particularly bother me.” Cas shrugs and carefully boxes up three slices of pie. “I should warn you, however, that some of it might go over my head. But that’s purely from lack of experi-”

It’s at that point when Cas snaps his mouth shut with an audible snap. His eyes go wide and his whole face starts going red. Dean can feel his own face start to heat up too because holy fucking shit what the hell did he just learn? Cas is lacking in experience? How much is he lacking? Like – is he – Is he a _virgin_ ? There’s nothing wrong with that if he is, but holy crap. _Holy crap_. He honestly doesn’t know how he feels about that. All the power to Cas if he chose not to have sex or anything, but does that mean he’s not wired that way? Is he – shit, what’s the word for it – is he Asexual? How is that going to play in with this whole flirting thing that Dean’s doing?

“I – uh – duly noted, Cas.” All of this is shit he’s gonna need to be thinks about later. Now that he’s all paid up, it’s best that he gets the fuck out of here before he says or does something stupid, like pressing for more information. It’s all he can do to grab up the coffee and pie and not look like he’s beating a hasty retreat. “I’ll see ya later!”

Cas manages a quiet goodbye, but he’s not looking up from the cash register either as he finally enters in the payment. Dean doesn’t look back and he basically speed walks out of the café. He keeps up that pace the whole way back to the station before he lets himself stop long enough to fucking _breathe_ . There’s a broken track of swear words spinning through his head right now. Of all the things he would have liked to learn tonight, Cas’s so called _lack of experience_ was not on the list.

Dear Gods of all things Rock and Roll, _please_ don’t let this awaken any kind of _sexual_ things in him. By some miracle of God, he’s managed to make it this far without using Cas as fapping material of any kind. It just feels kinda wrong to think like that about someone he’s trying to be friends with first. Dean wants to do this thing _right_ , if that’s what Cas wants too. Though, he’s gotta admit that it’s kinda an awesome idea about _teaching_ Cas all the fun kinds of experiences he could have. Granted, Dean isn’t exactly _experienced_ with doing it with guys in the first place, but learning together could be ridiculously fun too.

If there was ever a time when Dean needed to distract himself, this would be it. And to keep away the bad thoughts, it’s gotta be something pure. In this case, nothing is more pure than Christmas. Dean drops off the pie and the coffee with Charlie and takes her laptop from where she left it on the couch.

“Hey!” She looks up from opening the pie box. “What are you doing with that?”

“Shopping.” He shrugs and parks his butt at the dining table. His shopping list is all saved in his head right now, and he’s got a draft e-mail saved with links to some interesting things he’s found over the months. If he’s lucky, they’ll still be available.

His distractions start with the dog. Dean uses his saved links to find the site where he can order Bones a bone shaped box chock full of the best dog toys around and a fair amount of treats. There’s only one pet in his life and Dean spoils him just as much as he spoils the rest of his family. So when he moves on to them, he starts with his favourite; his mom. Since at least half of Dean’s nerdiness is inherited from her, he goes with a nerdy theme this year. And for that, he hits _Think Geek_.

This year, Mom’s gonna get a bunch of R2D2 items. He’s her favourite little robot from the Star War franchise, so he might as well get her everything he can find with that rolling trash can on it - said with all the love in the world, of course. In this case, Mom is getting a measuring spoon set, a kitchen timer, an apron, and he adds the droid salt and pepper shakers for the hell of it. There’s just _so much_ stuff that he could get with R2D2 on it, and it takes every ounce of willpower to check out without browsing through the rest of it.

Dad is a little harder to shop for, and that’s why Dean started thinking about it _months_ ago. He snooped harder than he’s ever snooped before to find something that he might need. The thing about his dad is that he doesn’t _want_ anything. He’s a minimalist when it comes to possessions. The only thing he ever really splurges on are tools for his workshop in the garage. But after much deliberation Dean has determined that it’s time for Dad to get a new tool belt. His current one is ragged as hell and had to be sewn back together in places by Mom. And since Dad is so against change, Dean’s even going to get him the exact same one, plus a gift card or two for the hardware and liquor stores.

Out of all his family, Sam is actually the easiest to shop for. And that’s because he gave Dean a link to an online list that he updates throughout the year with things that he wants. If he gets them for himself, he takes them off the list. And if he doesn’t, then Dean is fucking _overflowing_ with ideas for birthday and Christmas gifts. It’s just one of the many reasons that Dean loves his little brother. He’s such a helpful little genius and everyone should take a page out of his book and do this.

So, for Sam, Dean orders him a new laptop skin. Thanks to that handy-dandy list, he knows exactly which skin to get and what picture Sam wants on it – Bones looking super cute in the sunshine. But that’s not all Dean’s going to get for him either. There’s a couple books and video games on here too that catch his eye, and he picks out one of each. After Christmas, Sam will remove them from the list and Dean just needs to let his parents know what he picked from it, because Mom uses the list too.

Now that his immediate family is taken care of, it’s time for his closest friends. Man, this whole Christmas shopping thing is doing _wonders_ at keeping Dean’s mind off of things that he really shouldn’t be thinking about. That little tidbit about Cas is still sitting at the back of his head, but he pushes it away with focusing on what to get Charlie because she’s just as impossible as his dad is. What can you do for the girl who already has everything? Hah! Red-head kick back to Princess Ariel. Charlie would so punch him for that joke.

Well, when it comes to the impossible to shop for Queen of Moondoor, Dean has one tried and true present to go with. It’s actually the only thing she ever tells him that she wants for Christmas, and it’s a renewed subscription to a monthly LARP magazine. He’s taken to the habit of wrapping her a magazine organizer with the receipt so she’ll know what it’s for. Charlie has this _thing_ about organizing all the magazines by year and they’re just big enough that all twelve fit in one of the bigger organizers. That’s all he’ll get her for now unless he can find something that just screams _Charlie_ at him.

Jo is a lot easier in that she’s also a minimalist like Dad is. She prefers getting something that won’t end up sitting in a corner for the next year. He hasn’t known her for long, but for her birthday Dean made her breakfast in bed and gave her a gift card for the movies. That was plenty enough for her to be happy. And that gave him idea for Christmas too. In this case, it’s a twelve pack of Big John’s Beef Jerky. No relation to his dad, of course. It’s a variety pack with the _big_ bags and that should last her forever, if not longer. Actually, this is the kind of gift that he’s a little envious about and he orders himself a few bags of jerky too. Just because.

And now he’s almost reached the end of his shopping. He doesn’t know Jo’s mom enough to actually shop for her, but she’ll get a nice card and maybe some flowers from him if he sees her over the holidays. Unlikely, but possible. The only other person Dean considers close enough to deserve presents is Bobby, and he’s stupidly easy to shop for. It’s a one stop shop on Amazon to get him a box set of the latest season from that Spanish soap opera they love so much. If he’s nice, maybe he’ll throw in one of his bags of jerky too. After all, Bobby _is_ the one who introduced him to Big John’s to start with.

By the time he hits the last order button, Dean’s still in the mood to shop. He doesn’t really have anyone else to get gifts for, but it can’t hurt to look and maybe get ideas for birthdays or next year. It’s never too early to start Christmas shopping. Although browser browsing is _a lot_ more dangerous than it used to be, because Dean ends up looking at packs of fancy origami paper for himself if he needs any in the future and that just brings him back to thinking about Cas.

It’s only the beginning of November, but it seems like their friendship is coming along nicely. Would it be too weird to assume that by Christmas time they’ll be close enough to exchange gifts? How far ahead of himself would he be getting if he bought something for Cas right now? No, no. That sounds like a terrible idea. He really absolutely shouldn’t. They’re still teetering on the edge of friendship right now and getting something like a _gift_ for Cas would totally be overstepping their boundaries.

Oh, but what if he gets something for Nike? Cas can’t complain if Dean gets something for his _cat_ , right? It doesn’t look like she has any and that’s a damn shame. There shouldn’t be any problems with him spoiling _her_ – probably. But what kind of toys do cats even like? Something small and squeaky like a mouse? This is going to require some kind of research.

And that’s how Dean ends up on a marathon of Youtube videos of cats playing with toys. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure _how_ , but he ends up on videos about how to actually make the cat toys yourselves. In this case, they’re knitted or crocheted little mice and fish that get stuffed with cat nip. Well, hey. Cas can’t turn down cat toys that Dean actually made himself, can he? He’s got a big ol’ tote bin in the basement with all his yarn supplies, and he could probably find the time to learn how to make a couple between now and Christmas.

Grandma Campbell taught him how to work knitting needles and crochet hooks back when he was young, and with a video walkthrough it should be easy enough to get the hang of things again. Dean won’t make any commitments for this right now, but he definitely saves some of those videos to his Youtube bookmarks. Just in case, y’know? They might come in handy some day.

With that out of his system, Dean gets back to his browser browsing. He clicks through what feels like _hundreds_ of pages of gift recommendations and endless Pinterest walls before something else catches his eye. It’s a simple white mug, but the handles are black wings. Kinda like an angel. That tickles something at the back of Dean’s mind and he’s got the order page open before he even realizes what he’s doing. Oh, hey! It’s _customizable_!

Did he read or hear something a while ago about Cas being named after an angel? How awesome would it be if Cas had an angel themed mug with that and his name on it? The mug would be just for him and absolutely no one else would get to drink out of it. Man, this idea is getting better by the second – even though Dean knows that it’s the worst and he absolutely shouldn’t do it. But his hands aren’t listening to him and with just a few quick clicks and a couple seconds of typing, he’s got _Castiel_ on the much with a fancy font. Directly below that he adds _Angel of Thursday_ because why the hell not?

His fingers fly faster than his brain can keep up and in the blink of an eye his phone pings with the confirmation e-mail for his purchase. The regret is _instant_ and Dean groans loudly. He drops his head to the table and bangs it a few times, narrowly missing the laptop’s keyboard.

Why did he do that? Why did he buy a thing for Cas not even a whole ten minutes after deciding that it would be pushing their friendship too far too fast? He doesn’t even know if Cas will still want to be friends with him in a month. This is the stupidest thing ever and Dean absolutely needs to lift his head to do the right thing and _cancel that order_. But of course he doesn’t move beyond banging his forehead against the table a couple more times.

“Whatever you’re doing, could you stop it?” Charlie calls over from the couch. “You’re being an idiot and it’s getting annoying.”

That’s it. This is Dean’s life now. He’s an idiot and nothing is going to change that. Even Charlie can see it. Okay, okay. There’s always a bright side to things, right? Dean just needs to look for the silver lining. It’s gotta be here _somewhere_. Like, for example, there’s always the possibility that he could just leave the gift anonymously like he does with the origami. Or would that be too much? The origami is just a small, playful kind of gesture where a gift like this is just – No. Never mind. That idea is as stupid as ordering the damn thing in the first place.

Alright then. What about if he just held onto the mug? There’s nothing in the terms and agreements that he just clicked through saying that he _has_ to give Cas the present _this_ Christmas. It’s well within reason for Dean to hold on to it until they reach a friendship level where gifts are totally acceptable and even encouraged. That’s not such a bad idea, but it doesn’t change that he still feels like a fucking _idiot_ for the rest of the week – if not longer.

Hold on now. Wait just a minute. Hasn’t Cas technically been giving him a gift every time he gets a coffee? Dean turns his head to look at the little origami dragon sitting next to his empty coffee cup. This is a _to go_ cup. Cas only gives the dragon to inside customers. As far as Dean knows, he’s the only one who gets the special treatment with the dragons.

Okay, this is good. This is the silver lining Dean was looking for. Maybe this whole gift isn’t as bad as he’s making it out to be. Now he’s just got nearly two months of waiting to muscle his way through before he knows for sure if he can give the gift or not.

Shit. No matter how he looks at it, this is still torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can always check status updates about the chapter at [this tag on tumblr](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU) to see what the heck is going on if a chapter is missing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

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**_Sunday – November 15 th, 2015_ **

Dean stretches out under the blankets with a pleased groan. It’s been a good day and he’s pretty damn ready for bed. It’s pretty late and he should definitely just go to sleep, but he’s practically ninety percent done with _The Sapphire Rose_. The temptation is _real_ to just pick it up and finish reading it right now. He knows he shouldn’t, but oh _God_ does he want to. It’s time for some extreme measures to make sure that he doesn’t read it.

His extreme measures are pretty pathetic, to be honest. All Dean does is roll over and put the book in one of his bedside drawers. It’s in that drawer that he finds his cell phone and he goes a little red in the face. That’s right. He hid that in there today too.

As much as he _really_ enjoys this whole texting thing with Cas, sometimes Dean needs to physically stop himself from texting _every day_. It’s just – he’s _really_ into practically everything Cas has to say. He’s just so damn interesting. There’s so much unknown to him. An attractive package of layers that Dean wants to peel apart. Not like an onion, though. Because onions make Dean’s eyes and mouth water (they’re just _so good_ ) and being around Cas makes his mouth go dry and his heart feel like it belongs better in a hummingbird’s chest.

On the bright side, at least he isn’t the only one doing all the texting. There have actually been moments over the last week where _Cas_ sent him a message first. Dean doesn’t want to think about how giddy he was when he got those because it just makes him feel like he’s back in high school. By no means does he have any _bad_ high school memories, but he’s not interested in regressing to those years. He’s plenty happy with the point he’s at in his life now and there’s nothing he really wants to change with it.

With a sigh, Dean exchanges the book for his phone and rolls onto his back again. There aren’t any missed messages from the day, but he scrolls through messages from the past few days. Yesterday Jo texted him asking if they had any peanuts. Her reasons are still unknown, but Dean let her take the ones from his private cupboard in the kitchen. There weren’t that many left in the bag anyways, so it’s not a big deal to let her have the rest.

Then there was a message from Mom earlier in the morning telling him that he forgot to take a box of things she had brought for him from the house. He’ll have to put it with his stuff when he gets to work tomorrow so he’ll remember to take it with him when he leaves the next day.

After her, the most recent message was in the early morning of his last shift and it was from Cas: **_You failed to mention the large amount of politics for both the Kingdom and the Church involved in the first book. Do they feature prominently in the future books?_**

That one had brought a smile to Dean’s face. He had purposefully not mentioned a lot of things about the series when he was discussing it with Cas. It was hard not to mention all the politics, given that half the plot is fueled by shady political dealings, but all that shit is easily worth it for everything else.

Dean had some fun with his answer to that message: **_I figured the whole mention of CHURCH KNIGHTS might have tipped you off when I was talking about them._**

Because that’s what Sparhawk and the majority of his troupe are. And when a Church is involved in a story enough to have Knights of her own, that usually involves a fair bit of politics. Or, at least that’s how it is in Dean’s experiences. And thankfully Cas doesn’t seem to mind the background politics going on in the first book. Going by the rest of his text messages from that day, he’s enjoying the same things about the series that really drew Dean into it.

Seriously, there must be some kind of miracle at work here for the both of them to like the same things. Cas is getting a kick out of the way the characters interact. There’s so much sass and humour with them, that Dean finds himself laughing at every other conversation they have. Not to mention that the overall story is captivating, and there have been some interesting plot twists that Dean has carefully made sure not to mention to Cas either. They could spoil a whole lot and he absolutely doesn’t want to be _that guy_.

There must have been some kind of divine intervention that had Cas actually pick up the series just from him mentioning it. Though, maybe not. Cas is such a voracious reader that he’d welcome just about anyone giving him some recommendations. After they’re done with the Tamuli, Dean’s going to have to try and sell him on some of his other favourites. Maybe Cas might like all the word play that takes place in _The Phantom Tollbooth_ , if he hasn’t read that already.

Speaking of books, Dean is almost done with the Sapphire Rose and he stopped reading tonight _just_ before the final battle with Azash, the evil God that they’ve been fighting against for the whole series in some way or another. He’s really looking forward to reading that bit, but he’ll save it for his down time tomorrow because he _definitely_ needs to get some sleep. Those eight o’clock start times are brutal sometimes, but at least he loves the work he does.

And since sleep is something he needs to get, Dean sets the alarm on his phone and rolls over to plug it into the dock he has on his bedside table for it to charge. With that done, he turns off the light and buries himself under his blankets with a happy sigh. After a jaw-cracking yawn and a bit of wiggling to make himself comfortable, Dean closes his eyes and lets himself relax. Hopefully sleep will come soon and this won’t be one of the nights where his brain just won’t shut off.

After a few minutes, Dean opens his eyes and stares at the outline of his phone in the bare light coming under his bedroom door. Did he set _all_ of his alarms? There should be at least three so that he’ll definitely get up on time. Maybe he should check. No, no. He definitely did at least one and that’s good enough. Probably. Unless he somehow manages to sleep through it. That’s happened before, and that’s why he sets _three_ on most occasions.

Yeah, he should totally check. If he slept through one and was late for work, Bobby would never let him live it down. And he doesn’t even want to think of what kind of flak he’d catch from his parents for it.

With a groan, Dean reaches out for his phone again. He takes a few seconds to check his alarm and feel vaguely victorious for checking. There really only was _one_ that turned on. He taps the icons to turn on the other two and then lets his thumb hover over the button for his texting app. There really isn’t any point to him opening it right now, but there’s a worming thought wiggling in the back of his mind and he’s gotta deal with it if he wants to get any rest tonight.

Dean mentally curses himself out for being weak as he opens the app and selects Cas’s name. **_I’m almost done with the Sapphire Rose and things are heating up! Heading to bed now, so I’ll have to wait for it in the morning. Have a good shift and I’ll see you tomorrow night!_**

Okay, there. He texted Cas today and now he won’t feel so bad for not having said anything to him in the last twenty-four hours. This whole addiction to talking with Cas could get to be a big problem, and that’s why he has measures in place to keep him from doing it too often. If he comes off as too strong, Cas might withdraw back into being even _more_ closed off than he is now. They’ve only been texting for a few weeks and Dean has made some _massive_ progress. No one else might be able to see it, considering that all their conversations are mostly about books and what they’ve done during the day, but Dean counts every syllable as a win.

He’s not expecting his phone to ding again before he even gets it back in the doc. Cas always answers rather quickly: **_I’ll be finishing the Diamond Throne tonight. The Elenium has been very good thus far and I’m excited to read the other two books. I look forward to seeing you Monday night. I’ll make sure to have a pecan pie for you._**

His hand is surprisingly steady as he puts the phone back in the dock. And then he’s very much _not_ steady as he pulls a pillow over his head and wiggles violently under the covers. There’s a whole lot of kicking involved because holy _shit_ he can’t believe just how _good_ Cas is. He could be hiding a whole asshole side to him, and Dean could really care less at this point because _pie_. It really is the best way to win Dean’s heart and Cas is pretty much already there if he keeps this shit up.

Not only he is already so far ahead in the books, but he’s got pie and Dean is just – he can’t contain himself. He really doesn’t want to jinx anything right now, but he’s pretty sure things with Cas are going really fucking well. It’s just a matter of time now before Dean gets up the guts enough to make an obvious move on him. Maybe. Unless he’s a totally pussy about this, given that this will be his first time asking a guy out and he’s trying his hardest not to be fucking nervous about it.

Like, this whole origami thing is going pretty good, far as Dean knows. Tessa tells him that Cas always takes the new one he leaves, but she doesn’t know what he does with them. According to her, she hasn’t seen a single one end up in the trash yet. So, that’s gotta be a plus, right? Did Cas take the origami mouse that Dean left yesterday? God, he’s so tempted to just _ask_ him about it tomorrow night. But, of course, he won’t. That would totally give him away.

For now, Dean just needs to bide his time. He needs to get to know Cas better. Hopefully there will come a time in the future when he knows it’s his best chance to ask Cas out. If that time ever comes, Dean needs to be more than ninety percent sure that he won’t be turn down. And if that time _never_ comes, well… At least he got himself a new friend out of the deal!

It’s a win-win situation either way and Dean is more than happy with it.

**_Thursday – November 19 th, 2015_ **

Crashing back into the world of consciousness is never a fun thing. It’s worse when there’s a cold sweat soaking your skin and you’re already out of breath. Dean sits up with a gasp, eyes wild in the dark. He flails out to turn on the light, but misses enough times that he almost knocks over his empty glass. After a few more attempts, he finally manages to get it. By then he realizes that he’s most definitely awake now and whatever nightmare that scared the shit out of him is over now.

Even his legs feel a little weak as he slides out of bed and wobbles his way into the attached bathroom. There’s a tremor to his hands that he doesn’t like as he cups them under the tap to splash some cold water on his face. Dean’s a _firefighter_ for God’s sake. He’s supposed to be made from harder stuff than this. It’s his _job_ to face what most people consider a living nightmare. Something like a nightmare isn’t supposed to shake him so badly, and especially not when he’s pretty sure that it was a fire in his nightmares to start with.

Once he’s dried his face with a hand towel, Dean lifts his head to stare at himself in the mirror. Even after the splashing, he still looks pretty pale. Fucking nightmare. Why did it have to come _tonight_ of all nights? Couldn’t it have happened yesterday night when he didn’t have work in the morning? Most of the time, he’s normally nightmare free. The chances of having one always grow the nights following a stressful shift where he’s had to deal with actually getting someone out of a blaze. It’s not a fun thing to do, but it’s part of the job and it’s exactly what he had to do on his last shift.

There was an fire in a townhouse on the edge of a suburb out of town. Dean spent the majority of his shift dealing with it, considering that it was just spreading down the row of attached housing thanks to the wind. They even had to call in extra crew and the volunteer fighters to deal with it, bringing in the spare trucks and everything. It was a piece of work, that’s for sure.

The only bright side about the whole thing is that he still managed to get a chance to go in and visit Cas. It was four hours later than usual, but there were still a few slices of that pecan pie left. Cas even warmed it up for him a bit while they talked. Too bad Dean wasn’t able to stay there a little longer. He would’ve liked to talk with Cas more to help him wind down from the shift. But there was paperwork to do and if he wanted to go home on time, then he had to get it done. Especially considering that it was only a few hours from the end of his shift at that point.

But that was early-as-balls on Tuesday morning. Now it’s – he pokes his phone to turn on the screen enough to check the time as he sits on the edge of his bed again. Jesus, it’s like two o’clock in the morning on a Thursday. He’s got less than five hours before he needs to be at work again and he is _so_ not feeling it right now. Though that could be because he’s only got a couple hours of sleep under his belt. It would be better if he could manage to go back to sleep, But that feels more than a little bit impossible at the moment and he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

For the life of him, he can’t actually remember the details of his dream. It’s a strong suspicion that there was fire involved, but for all he can tell there could have been a Xenomorph involved. Given his history with nightmares, it was probably a fire, but he’d honestly prefer the alien at that point. At least he doesn’t have deal with _those_ on a frequent basis because of his job. Though that would be kind of cool if his job really was dealing with Xenomorphs.

The Alien movies always give him the heebie-jeebies, but they’re lots of fun. Dean has even enjoyed the terrifying thrill from playing Alien Isolation, even though he has to stagger his playing of that particular game. It just scares him a little _too_ much when a Xenomorph drops through the floor and prowls around the rooms while he’s trying to sneak through them with Ripley’s daughter. And, since he was playing that earlier this evening, it could _totally_ have been a Xenomorph that fucked up his dreams enough to scare him awake.

With another groan, Dean rubs his hands over his face. Would Charlie and Jo be mad at him if he woke one of them up to talk through this? He just needs a little bit of a distraction before he can get back to sleep. The option is sorely tempting, but Dean gives up on it the moment he remembers that neither of them are home right now. They’re both working and he’s _very_ alone. Which kinda sucks. God, he needs a partner so they can sleep here and cuddle him when he has a nightmare. Or so he can call them up and they won’t be mad at him for waking them up in the middle of the night.

Unless his partner is a nighthawk, like Benny. Or, better yet, like Cas! He wouldn’t mind because he wouldn’t be sleeping. Would he be annoyed with Dean for texting him in the middle of his shift? If he’s busy with customers, then he probably would be. Otherwise, he might actually be okay with it. Clearly his body thinks this is a good idea, because it’s already reaching for his phone before he’s fully decided on what he’s going to do.

It’s too bad that he’s finished _The Sapphire Rose_. He could totally have used that as a distraction right now, instead of bothering Cas. Maybe he’ll go break into Charlie’s room and get the first book of The Tamuli, if she didn’t take it to work. No, he can’t do that. He can’t bring himself to violate her personal space like that. Besides, he has work in the morning and if he started that book, he’d probably get sucked in and unable to go back to sleep. And he definitely needs to at least _try_ again.

With a sigh, Dean flops back on the bed and tries to make himself comfortable. The phone is still in his hands, though he hasn’t really opened the screen yet. There’s still a slight shake in his limbs and he tries his best to will it away – until he realizes that the little light on his phone is flashing. That means he’s got a missed message, and when the hell did that come in? Probably while he was sleeping, and he just didn’t see the notification when he checked the time. He would have noticed if it had dingled while he’s been awake.

The notification is for a message from Cas. It’s just a short message saying that he’s going to be finishing _The Ruby Knight_ tonight and that he can hardly wait to start the third book. That’s actually really impressive. He’s just powering through the books and Dean is maybe a little bit jealous of how much reading time Cas has. It took him a lot longer to get through the books, but that’s because he had to wait for Charlie to finish them before he could get his hands on them. And if anyone knows Charlie, then they know that she’s super slow when it comes to reading anything.

For Charlie, the problem is that she doesn’t really have the time to read. She spends most of her free time online in discussion groups about her favourite series, or video games. Not to mention that she’s got half a dozen personal projects going at a time. That includes all the planning that goes into her D&D sessions, and of course one can’t forget all the work that goes into hosting a LARP event. Charlie is basically the embodiment of a busy bee, and reading is not very high on her priority list. Which is why Dean should just get himself a second copy of the books so he doesn’t have to wait around on her.

Dean curls on his side and types out a quick answer to Cas’s message: **_You’re going to love book three._**

The response is just a few moments later: **_Shouldn’t you be sleeping?_**

Yes, yes he definitely should. But that doesn’t stop Dean from apparently being possessed by some mad spirit and actually clicking the little information button at the top of the texting app. That button opens a screen with Cas’s information in it, including a little button shaped like a phone. When Dean hits that, it opens the calling app and he can feel the phone actually shiver in his hand as it rings. He turns the volume down a little and puts the phone to his ear.

After a few rings, Cas picks up. “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas.” He rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “How’s your night going?”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” The confusion is plain in his voice. “If my math is right, you’re supposed to work in the morning.”

That’s God’s honest truth, that is. “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a few beats of silence before Cas quietly asks another question. “Is everything alright?” There’s actual concern in his voice and it sends a weird little shiver down Dean’s spine.

He doesn’t really know how to answer that in a positive way, so he might as well go for the harsh truth. “Not really. I just had a shitty nightmare.”

“Oh!” Surprise tempers Cas’s worried tone for a moment before it’s back in full force. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Even though Cas can’t see him, Dean still shrugs. “I dunno. It just freaked me out a bit.”

Cas hums softly and there’s a quiet rustle on the other side of the line. “What was it about?”

“Good question.” He rubs a hand over his face again and sighs. “I don’t know, man. I don’t really want to remember it too much. It freaked me out. But, usually my nightmares are about fires. Sometimes aliens. When I was younger I used to have dinosaur nightmares after watching all the Jurassic Park movies. I really don’t want to be eaten by a T-Rex at any point in my life.”

There’s another soft hum and more rustling. Knowing the time of night, Cas is probably doing his origami right now. “You should make yourself some calming tea.”

What the fuck is that supposed to be? Well, that doesn’t matter anyways. “I don’t drink tea.”

“You should do it nonetheless. The act of making the tea will help ease your mind, especially if it’s loose leaves instead of a teabag. And the tea itself will help you to relax while you drink it.” Cas just sounds so sure of himself that Dean kinda doesn’t want to shut him down like that, but he has to.

“Cas, buddy, I don’t _drink_ tea.” He laughs a little and shakes his head. “I don’t have any to make in the first place. Sorry to burst your bubble there.”

The rustling of what’s gotta be paper in the background is covered with a frustrated huff. “You have roommates. Do any of them drink it?”

“Probably.” Dean rubs a hand over his face again and sits up. “But I don’t touch their shit. We have cupboards marked for each of us. We’re not allowed to take food or anything from the cupboards that don’t belong to us. If it’s in the pantry, then it would be okay.”

“Then go look in the pantry.” There’s an edge of _command_ to Cas’s voice and Dean finds it a little hilarious. “What would it hurt?”

Again a good point. And Dean _is_ looking for a distraction after all. He sighs loudly, acting like he’s all sorts of put out by this, and gets to his feet. “Fine, fine. I’ll head downstairs right now, but it’s just to prove you wrong, dammit.”

“At least you’re going to look.” Cas sounds smug as shit with his little victory.

Dean mock grumbles under his breath for the whole shuffle downstairs. He can’t _actually_ be mad at him, because Cas is doing just what he wanted when he called him. By the time he goes back to bed after this foray into the kitchen, he’ll probably be more or less distracted enough to get some goddamn sleep.

This whole private cupboards thing was Dean’s idea. He got it after the first week of living with Charlie, which was a while before Jo moved in. Charlie has the nasty habit of snacking while she’s gaming, but she never buys her own if she has access to someone else’s. Dean had to lay down the law about the private cupboards by the end of the first week if he wanted to ever have any snacks for himself. He even went and bought chalkboard labels that he stuck on the cupboards and had Charlie write their names on them in a funky kind of font.

It was a unanimous decision, which they got Jo to agree to afterwards, that the pantry would be their communal spot. Mostly. There are three smaller sized Rubbermaid bins in there are the lower shelves that have their names on them too. That’s where they can put things that are too big for their cupboards. Everything else, like big bags of flour, cooking spray, the massive bin of rice, and various other things they buy in bulk, are all communal. Everyone pitches in and splits the bill when they buy in bulk, because it’s the kind of shit that everyone eats anyways – especially considering that when Dean cooks, he cooks for _everyone_.

There’s a lot of shit in the communal pantry, and Dean squints through the shelves after turning on the light. “This is going to take a while to find. How are things at the café tonight?”

“Quiet, as always.” Cas sighs and Dean can distinctly hear something being poured in the background. “I finished my cleaning a while ago and took a break from reading so I could do my origami.”

Hah, he fucking _knew it_. “That’s cool. Are you having a mid-shift coffee right now?”

“Absolutely.” Cas even takes a loud sip to prove it, lip smack included. “Dean, I have to ask. Does Annias get what’s coming to him? I despise him.”

Dean snorts loudly and checks a small box full of seasoning sachets. “Spoilers, Cas. I’m not saying anything about the books now unless it’s to talk about stuff you already read.”

There’s nothing but disappointment in Cas’s voice. “Fine. How far away is your kitchen? It’s taking you a ridiculous amount of time to get there.”

“I’m already here, dude. I’ve been looking since you poured yourself some coffee.” He rolls his eyes and puts the box back. Nothing but seasonings in there.

Whether he finds tea or not, Dean is still really happy with this situation. Talking with Cas feels so _natural_ right now. He hasn’t tasted his foot at all for this whole conversation, and that’s a bonus in his books. This whole texting thing has made him feel a lot more comfortable with Cas and it’s _super_ awesome. Dean is definitely _way_ less paranoid about not looking like an asshole in front of Cas and it’s just – he can’t wait for things to get even better.

“Alright, Cas. I’ve looked through the whole pantry and I don’t see any tea in here.” He shuts the door and steps back to lean against the island in the kitchen. “Looks like you’re out of luck here, mister.”

Cas huffs again and Dean wonders if he’s got his arms crossed or not. “How opposed would you be to coming to the café? I could make you a tea on the house.”

Oh jeeze, that sounds _really_ tempting. Not the whole tea thing, but the seeing Cas thing. And there’s the possibility of there being pie left too. Shit, that sounds better every minute, but he knows that he shouldn’t do it. This is the same situation with having to hide his phone, or hiding a book on himself. He _needs_ to get some sleep tonight and going to see Cas in person would have the exact opposite effect for him. Plus, a pie would probably make him wired as hell and there would be no sleep for him in the immediate future.

With a loud sigh, Dean shakes his head and steps away from the counter. “I wish, but I trip like that would be counterproductive to that whole _sleep_ thing I’m supposed to be doing.” He turns off the lights on his way back through the living room to the stairs. “Thanks, though.”

“Your loss.” The shrug is literally right there in Cas’s voice. “I make a very good cup of tea.”

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.” He turns into the bathroom instead of his bedroom, and puts a cup under the tap and turns it on. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pouring myself something to drink right now.”

“I can hear that.” Cas huffs again and Dean can totally hear the roll of his eyes in his voice too. “That’s hardly an acceptable alternative to calming tea.”

“Every time you say that, I literally don’t know what you’re talking about. Is there some kind of specific tea that you’re talking about every time?”

There’s the soft sound of Cas taking a deep breath, and then Dean realizes that he basically dug himself a grave with that particular question. The next few minutes are filled with Cas naming every kind of tea that is considered to be _calming_ , including where it came from and the process in which it’s prepared. Dean smiles at his reflection in the mirror before drinking his cup of mostly room temperature water.

When Cas finishes, Dean puts his cup down and heads back into the bedroom. “My bad. I wasn’t aware that you were such a big tea aficionado.”

“I _do_ know more than just _coffee_ , you know.” Cas sniffs as if he’s insulted, but there’s totally the hint of a smile in his voice.

“Oh good. I was beginning to think you were a one trick pony.” Dean gets back in bed and pulls the blankets over in his lap.

Cas actually graces him with a laugh and Dean is _way_ too pleased with himself for it. Every time Cas laughs, it’s a victory of epic proportions. He savours all of them, including this one. And it’s the perfect thing to go back to bed too. It’ll be nice to have that ringing in his ears instead of thinking back to what the nightmare might have been.

Dean lays back in bed with the sappiest smile on his face. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” It’s a bit of a topic change, but he’d like to hear about it nonetheless. If there’s anything he likes hearing about, then it’s about Cas’s day.

There’s a soft hum before Cas answers. “I suppose that’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s next Thursday.”

“Oh dear.” Cas sighs and Dean isn’t sure if he imagines the rough edge to it. “I wonder if Gabriel knows.”

That doesn’t sound very promising. “I guess it would just be something small with you and Gabe, huh? Do you have any family in town? Or are you guys planning anything special for the café menu?”

Instead of answering, there’s just silence on the other end of the line. It goes on long enough that Dean actually check his screen to make sure that the call is still connected. Maybe Cas got a customer and he had to put it down quickly? Or –

A soft sigh cuts Dean’s thoughts off. “No, it’s just us. We have no other relatives. And I’m not sure about the menu. I’ll need to ask Gabriel about it. I’ll let you know if we’re doing anything special.”

Shit. This feels like it might be one of those topics that they shouldn’t talk about. But it’s also one that just gave Dean a tidbit he hadn’t known before and he can’t leave it alone. “Well, I guess that means it’s going to be an easy holiday for you guys.”

“I suppose.” Cas sure doesn’t sound happy about that. “It’s been quite some time since we’ve celebrated any holiday.”

Damn. That doesn’t sound very fun. There could be any number of reasons, but Dean doesn’t want to pry _too_ much. “Maybe you’ll do something different this year?”

“Most likely.” There’s another shrug in Cas’s voice, accompanied with a sigh. “Gabriel has been trying to make things more _normal_ for the both of us now that we’ve finally settled down.”

Oh man. It’s like Christmas came early. Dean’s learning so much new stuff right now. “Have you been moving around a lot?” Are Cas and Gabe military kids? If they’re alone, something could have happened to their parents because of that – especially since they don’t seem to be around anymore.

“Not, not really.” Cas hums, like he’s carefully picking out his words. “We did do some cross country sightseeing for a few years, but our previous home before that was only temporary. After we were finished with travelling, we settled here and decided to open Gabriel’s dream café.”

This is _awesome_. Dean grabs one of his pillows and hugs it to his chest as he rolls over, pinning the phone between his ear and the pillow under his head. “What brought you to Montpelier? We’re a pretty quiet town and there’s not a whole lot going on here.”

“That’s exactly the reason.”

Cas’s answer is simple enough that Dean can’t help laughing at it. “That’s a good enough reason, I guess. Not everyone our age wants to be in a big bustling city.”

“Who would even want that? It’s so noisy and there are so many people.” Cas’s voice takes a different tone to it, and Dean recognizes it immediately as one where he’s trying to take the heat off himself. “How long have you and your family been living in Montpelier?”

Y’know, Cas definitely gives off the air of being one of those people who doesn’t like talking about themselves. Dean gets it, and he’s totally cool with that. This is just a challenge to him and he loves himself a good challenge. One way or another, even if it takes a really long time, he fully intends on learning all there is to know about Cas. With his consent, though. He doesn’t want to learn anything unless Cas is the one who tells him about it.

Luckily for Cas, Dean is more than happy to talk about himself and he can do it for hours. “Depends which side of the family you’re talking about. Dad’s family has been living here forever, but Mom’s parents moved up here for Lawrence, Kansas not long before they had my mom. Some relative somewhere left them some property up here, so they came up here to check it out. I guess they liked it so much that they decided to stay.”

“That’s a nice story.” The smile is back in Cas’s voice and Dean is pretty relieved to hear it. “Does your family still own that property?”

“Nah, not anymore.” Dean closes his eyes, but hopes he doesn’t fall asleep in the middle of the conversation. “The house was old and falling apart, so they tore it down and built their own house. My grandparents lived there until the day they died. Mom and Dad sold it because it was too small for us to move into, and they couldn’t afford to manage a second property.”

“That’s very interesting.” To Cas’s credit, he actually does sound sincere.

Dean huffs a little laugh and muffles a yawn under his hand. “It’s not much of a story, but it’s mine and I like it. Though I’m glad we didn’t move in there. I liked visiting as a kid, but the place smelled like _old people_ and I don’t think it’ll ever smell any different.”

That makes Cas laugh too. “Do you have any family left back in Lawrence?”

Another good question. Cas is just full of the them today, isn’t he? “I dunno, maybe. I might have some distant relatives down there, but my grandparents on both sides had siblings die before they had kids of their own and both my parents are single kids. I don’t have any aunts, uncles, or cousins in town.”

“Do you wish that you did?” Is there a note of longing there, or is Dean imagining it because he’s getting pretty drowsy now that he’s horizontal?

“No, not really. I’m pretty happy with my family as it is. It makes get-togethers a lot easier and less of a big shindig, y’know?” Dean shrugs and muffles another yawn. “Set up and clean-up is _way_ easier when it’s just for four people. Five, if you include Bobby because we basically adopted him.”

Cas seems to mull it all over for a little bit before agreeing. “I’ve never had a big family gathering, but I think you make a very good point there regarding the benefits of a small one.”

“I make good points a lot. Most people tend to miss it.”

That makes Cas laugh again and Dean smiles sleepily into the dark. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

He wiggles deeper under the blankets and hugs his pillow a little tighter. It’s been a while since he shared his bed with anyone and he misses holding someone. “What are you doing right now?”

Cas is quiet for a moment and Dean hears the crinkle of paper. “Folding a crane.”

“How many do you have now?” Wasn’t he folding something like a thousand of them? It’s been a while since Dean paid attention to how many there were hanging from the ceiling.

“I have a fair number.”

Dean frowns slightly. “You have a count, don’t you?”

Amusement starts to creep into Cas’s voice. “Of course I do.”

Goddammit. “But you’re not going to tell me?”

“I need to keep the mystery alive somehow.” He hums and Dean hears the obvious crinkle of paper again. “There’s no fun in just _telling_ you.”

With a snort, Dean tries to smother his smile just like he does his yawns. “I’m just gonna count them the next time I’m at the café.”

“You’re welcome to try, but there’s quite a few of them.” Cas’s amusement becomes another quiet laugh. “It might take you a while.”

“Oh _no_.” Dean’s tone is sarcastic, but his heart crawls right up into his throat and he tries his hardest not to let it show. “I guess that means I’d be hanging out there longer than I usually do.”

Again, Cas laughs, and it sends a little shiver right down Dean’s spine. “If that’s how you want to waste your time, I won’t complain.”

Well, _fuck_. Dean’s heart soars almost violently and he wiggles a bit under the blanket. There’s no way he can keep that happiness out of his voice. “Thanks, Cas?”

Amusement gives way to confusion. “For what?”

“For taking the time to talk to me tonight.” Dean sighs happily and brings a hand up to push it under the phone. “I feel _a lot_ better than I did when I called you earlier. I think I might even be ready to try sleeping again.”

Cas’s voice is full of his smile. “I’m glad I was able to help. From personal experience, I know nightmares aren’t something one can easily ignore.”

That brings a question to mind and Dean asks it before he means to. “Do you get them?”

“More often than I’d care to.” He sighs and there’s a tone of regret to it.

Dean chews on his bottom lip for a moment before asking his next question. It might be pushing for too much, but he feels like he _needs_ to know right now. “Are they bad?”

His question is met with silence and Dean winces. Fuck. Did he find some territory past the line of what Cas is willing to share? He’s been toeing it for weeks and it’s been sliding back slowly, but sometimes they hit a topic where Cas just backpedals like crazy. This could be one of those times.

Before he can change the subject, Cas takes a soft breath. “Yes.” His answer is so quiet that Dean almost loses it to the breath itself.

“That sucks.” Dean’s going to make an executive decision and not press further right now. “If you ever get them, you can call me too, okay?”

Cas snorts, but his voice still sounds _off_. “There’s a high chance that you would be working.”

“I know, but you’re working right now and you still took my call.”

“Yes, but I’m not a firefighter and I _own_ this café. Those are some very different situations.”

Dean presses his lips together in a frown. Cas is going to fight him on this, but his stubbornness is rearing its ugly head and he is _not_ backing down from this. “The only reason I wouldn’t answer a call from you is if I’m out of the station on a job. Otherwise, I can hide out in the bathroom or go on break. You were here for me tonight, Cas, and I want to be there for you.”

He can actually _hear_ the exasperation in Cas’s silence. This is the first time he’s coming up against a bullheaded Winchester and he’s going to learn it the hard way that nothing wins over that. And, sure enough, it’s just a few moments before Cas sighs loudly.

“Alright, Dean. Thank you.”

If he wasn’t half-way asleep right now, Dean would punch the air. “Any time, Cas.”

“I hope that you’ll be well rested in the morning.” He’s got the smile in his voice and that’s officially Dean’s favourite sound. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”

“Absolutely.” Dean muffles another yawn. “G’night, Cas.”

He hangs up after Cas returns the goodnight and manages to contain himself long enough to roll over and put his phone back in the dock. After that, all hell breaks loose in the form of happy wiggles under the blankets again. Dean even hides his face in the pillow he’s holding, using it to muffle any noise in case he accidentally squeals like a five year old girl.

That phone call went _way_ better than he thought it would. Not only did he learn a little bit more about Cas, some good and some bad, the talk just went _so well_. Or, it did in his opinion, at least. Talking with Cas is just getting easier and easier with every conversation and Dean is _so happy_ at the progress they’re making. Hopefully by the time things come to a head with Cas, he’ll have stopped acting like a love struck teenager every time something goes well.

See, the thing is that Cas was one hundred percent right about him. Dean _does_ have a problem with oversharing. While he doesn’t really see it as much of a problem, Cas is still the exact opposite. He’s got some big personal secrets hidden away inside that beautiful noggin of his, and Dean is definitely looking forward to learning them. Cas is a puzzle with a dry sense of humour, sharp mind, and just about everything Dean finds attractive in a person.

It was the best damn idea to go the extra mile and befriend Cas first.

_** ** _

**_Saturday – November 21 st , 2015_ **

Castiel doesn’t mean to do it, but the clock on the cash register catches his eye while he’s giving it a cursory wipe down. It’s nearly two o’clock, and that means that Dean will be here soon. Ever since they became friends, Castiel has become much more aware of the days of the week and the time during his shift. Is it weird that he’s essentially memorized Dean’s schedule? He hasn’t tried to hide that fact, since it’s a fairly regular schedule and everything and it only took paying some attention to figure it out. If Dean has a problem with it, he certainly hasn’t said anything.

In any case, Castiel has now most definitely started looking forward to two o’clock on the days when Dean is working. Today is slightly different and it’s all because of the phone call from last night. He wants to make sure that Dean is doing better after his nightmare. They haven’t spoken since the phone call, so everything must have gone well, but he still wants confirmation from Dean himself.

Actually, Castiel has even been contemplating making a cup of tea for him as a joke. He had even considered preparing a container full of calming teas so Dean could take it home, but he had discarded that idea almost immediately. Dean said he doesn’t drink tea, so it would just be a waste to give him that. Besides, wouldn’t that be considered a gift and not a joke at that point? It would still be funny, but it would be a gift nonetheless and Castiel isn’t entirely sure whether or not they’ve reached the level of friendship where impromptu gifts are acceptable.

It still doesn’t feel like it’s been a long time since he started considering Dean a friend. They have good conversations both in person, over the phone, and via text message. Regardless of their means of communication, Dean is a very fun person to interact with. Thus why Castiel is looking forward to seeing him soon. In fact, that should be any minute now and he can hardly wait. Aside from checking up with Dean after last night’s phone call, Castiel also has a rather unkind though amusing reason for seeing him.

As it is, he went out before work the other day to pick up _The Tamuli_ compendium. Instead of reading three separate books, he has one big one with all three books of the trilogy inside it. While it might not be kind, Castiel would rather like to rub that in Dean’s face. All in good humour, of course. He’s going to enjoy teasing Dean about how he’s going to be able to read the whole _Tamuli_ before he even gets to start book one. Although that’s still a ways off for him. He plans to start book three tonight.

Movement outside the window catches Castiel’s attention and he can’t keep the smile off his face as he recognizes Dean. Today it looks like she’s wearing the coat that goes along with his usual fire pants. It’s not surprising. The weather has gotten a little colder and there’s quite the chill breeze out right now. The coat must be good protection against it.

Castiel puts his cleaning cloth away and moves his origami papers off to one side. The bell above the door jingles as he’s checking the coffee pots to make sure they have enough for Dean’s order. Unfortunately the one pot he uses at night is almost empty and just past the expiry time where Castiel is comfortable using it. The firefighters deserve fresh coffee and he dumps the remainder of the pot, leaving it in the sink to put a clean one on the machine and run it.

Dean is leaning over and eyeing the display case when Castiel turns back around. “Hello, Dean. How is your shift going today?”

“Pretty good.” He looks up with a smile that is far too charming for its own good. “I mean, it’s going good despite how I’m working with a couple people who were being especially annoying today.” His smile falls into something a little more devious. “Maybe I shouldn’t get their orders.”

That won’t do. Castiel frowns and holds his hand out for the little paper he can see Dean holding. “The _Graveyard Shift_ has a reputation to uphold and firefighters need their coffee. Give me the order.”

That smile falls into a full frown and Dean crosses his arms. He narrows his eyes, as if he truly plans to defy Castiel on this, but then he breaks into a laugh a moment later. Without any further trouble, he hands the note over and turns back to the display case.

Pleased that he won, Castiel quickly punches in the few coffees on the note. “Is there anything in the display case that you would like to add to your order?” He glances up with an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately we ran out of pie earlier. I tried to save you a slice, but I can’t exactly tell someone they’re not allowed to order it when it’s _right there_.” Although, now that he thinks about it, he could have just moved the pie stand out of sight. Damn. He’ll have to do that next time.

Dean laughs again and looks back at Castiel with a small, warm smile. “It’s cool. Thanks though. The next best thing to your pie is the brownies.” He taps the glass of the case. “And that batch you’ve got right there are looking _good_.”

“You’re lucky that we have a few left. They’re usually a big seller.”

“I’ll take the rest of them, then.” He nods, satisfied with himself, and steps back. “I might eat them all myself, though. The others don’t deserve them. Except for Bobby. And maybe Uriel. But Nick and Meg are being assholes today so no brownies for them.”

Castiel tries his best not to smile, but it’s hard. He glances at the note in his hand to where the orders are marked with a letter. B must be for Bobby, but there is no U or M for Uriel or Meg. The N, however, has _five macarons_ scribbled underneath the coffee order. “If they’ve been misbehaving, you can let them have the macarons Nick has apparently ordered.”

“Ugh.” Dean wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “That’s fine by me. I don’t like those things. They feel different than they look and it always throws me off when I eat one.”

Castiel shrugs, but he nods in agreement. Personally, he likes everything they sell. Gabriel refuses to make anything for sale if it doesn’t pass Castiel’s taste test. But macarons, just like any of the tarts and baked good they make, aren’t always for everyone.

“I’ll process your payment after I box those up.” The coffee machine is still running, so he might as well get the desserts first. And once they’re packaged, he’ll know how much to ring up on the register.

Neither one of them expects Dean’s phone to start beeping while Castiel is in the process of carefully arranging the box so the brownies won’t melt into the macarons. Dean takes one look at the screen and swears. “Sorry, Cas, but I gotta cancel that order!” He gives no further information as he turns on his heel and dashes out the door.

For all the bulky clothing that he’s wearing, Dean is surprisingly fast on his feet. He’s already out of sight by the time Castiel manages to figure out what’s going on. He leaves the box on the counter and dusts his hands off on his jeans as he heads to the door. Despite the cold wind, he heads out onto the sidewalk. Dean is a much faster runner than anticipated, as he’s not even on the street anymore. It’s only a few moments later when the fire truck pulls out of the station, its lights already flashing.

Castiel watches the truck head up Main Street and take the left on School Street. He still waits a few moments to see if they put on their sirens at any point. In the months since they moved to this location, he can’t once recall hearing the sirens at night. During the day, perhaps, as they tend to wake him if he’s not taking _the sleep_ , but never at night. That’s very polite of them, actually. The majority of citizens are sleeping right now, Creature or not.

For the first time in a long time, one of Castiel’s terrible habits surfaces again. He brings a hand to his mouth and chews absently at the edge of his thumb nail. A nervous ball has settled in his stomach, broiling with a not entirely undue amount of worry. It was just last night that Dean had a nightmare involving fire, wasn’t it? He never officially confirmed that it _was_ fire, but it could have been. And what if that was some kind of ill omen?

When the chill wind finally manages to break through his hooded sweatshirt, Castiel heads back inside. His thoughts are entirely too distracted as he returns to behind the counter. The box with the remainder of the brownies and a few macarons is sitting abandoned where he left it. He stares at it for a few moments before filling it with all the macarons they have left. That’s three more than Nick ordered, but Castiel doesn’t care.

He puts the box on the back counter by the coffee machine and places a drink tray on top of it. Those thoughts about the ill omen still weigh heavily at the back of his mind as he prepares five cups. Each one he marks with the first initial of one of the firefighters. Dean mentioned them all before he left and Castiel prepares one for each of them. The tray only fits four cups, but the fifth can easily be placed in the center of all of them.

Uriel and Meg may not have ordered anything, but Castiel can still prepare straight black coffee for them. Dean has told him before that the instant coffee they have at the station is disgusting. They likely have sugar and creamer or milk there, so Uriel and Meg can put that together themselves. While Castiel recognizes the orders sometimes, Dean’s is really the only one that he’s absolutely memorized. Nick’s is familiar because it’s always so complicated, but no effort has been made to remember it every time. As such, Castiel puts the sticky note on top of the cups for reference later.

With that done, there’s nothing left to distract him from the worry circulating through his mind. That won’t do and Castiel glances around to find something that he can do. The brightly coloured paper for his origami catches his eye and he picks all that up to move to the far end of the counter by the window. Castiel drags his stool there too, and brings the box of dragons. It’s by no means empty, but he can only fold so many cranes per shift before he’ll need something else to keep him occupied when they’re done.

From this vantage point right against the window, he can more or less see right up the street. Castiel would have to press his face to the glass to be able to see the station itself, but he’s hoping that he’ll notice the lights of the truck when it returns – if it comes back during his shift, that is. Until then, he’s just going to fold his origami and try his hardest to _not_ focus too much on what Dean and the other firefighters may or may not be doing right now.

Unfortunately, his plan doesn’t work too well. It takes him ten minutes to finish one crane because he can’t stop glancing up and leaning closer to the window to check for the fire engine. Things only get worse when he gets up and heads into the kitchen to where the controls for the radio are kept. Since it’s technically Saturday now, Balthazar isn’t booked and Jess won’t be in until five o’clock. There’s no one else but Castiel here that can complain when he changes from a commercial free music channel to one focused entirely on local news.

This channel is usually rather quiet at night. They tend to only mention anything big that occurred during the day. After that, they touch on state news, then country news, and eventually worldwide. Of course, they’ll always stop whatever segment they’re working on if something big happens locally. It’s Castiel’s hope that the firefighters rolling out might be big enough for that and he’ll get some kind of mention regarding what’s going on right now.

At the moment the radio host is talking about a shooting that occurred on the west coast. He tries not to be disheartened by that. Another shooting is nothing new, though it’s always saddening, but right now he wants to hear about a fire – or anything else the firefighters would be called out for. Whatever it might be, Castiel craves an update on the situation. He’s never been friends with a firefighter before and he never thought he would be _this_ nervous about said friend being out on a call.

Castiel returns to his spot at the end of the counter and listens to the news with half an ear. His origami is waiting and he makes a concerted effort to try and do some more. There are only a few more cranes left to do before he’s done with them for the night. At this rate, he might not even manage to get to the dragons. He’s just so damn _distracted_ by the lingering idea that perhaps Dean’s dream might have something to do with the call he’s on right now.

The logical side of Castiel’s mind doesn’t want to believe that Dean’s dream could have been an ill omen. But with how his life has been thus far, Castiel can’t really discount the possibility. Even without Creature blood in their family history, Humans are still capable of having prophetic dreams. It’s sometimes caused by being around any amount of magic on a normal basis. And that’s entirely possible, given how often Dean comes here. The very air here is filled with the magic of Gabriel’s spells, and many Creatures have commented on it when they come in for coffee. The vast majority of Humans don’t notice it, or realize how it can affect them.

That’s part of the reason why Castiel is always paranoid for _days_ whenever he has a nightmare about his parent’s death. It’s difficult not to be whenever he’s forced to relive the memories of being shoved in to the backseat of a car and covered in a  tarp. How is he not supposed to believe that his dreams are warning him when he wakes up with his mother’s scream in his ears, telling Gabriel to drive and not look back? It was one of the last things he ever heard her say, and his nightmares are always filled with it and the sound of Gabriel’s muffled crying in the front seat of the car.

Sometimes his nightmares even come with the sound of spells crashing and breaking against the warded body of the car. The sound of Gabriel’s tears often overshadows it, but he can still clearly remember hearing them when he was younger. While their parents didn’t practice magic themselves, there was a family friend who did. Even though he was thirteen when his parents were murdered by Witches, Castiel still can’t remember their name or their face, but he knows they were the one who set his family up with a warning system much like what Gabriel has done here. They were the one who made sure their car was as guarded like a tank.

Though he can’t remember them, Castiel will always be forever thankful to that family friend. If it wasn’t for them, he and Gabriel might not be here right now. That’s not a situation he enjoys imagining, and he hates thinking about the source of his nightmares even more. Castiel shakes himself out and forces those thoughts out of his head. With some effort, he tries to remind himself that just because he has nightmares about the most traumatic moment in his life, doesn’t mean that Witches are going to show up shortly after.

It hasn’t happened in the last dozen or so years since that day, so why would it happen now? And since that’s never happened to him, he shouldn’t put any stock in the fact that Dean dreaming about fire would cause something to happen tonight. Besides, Dean never confirmed that his nightmare was about fire in the first place. Castiel just needs to remember that Dean and the rest of his co-workers are _firefighters_. Calls like tonight happen all the time for them, with or without a dream preceding them.

And if that isn’t enough to calm his ruffled nerves, then Castiel should just focus on the fact that Dean didn’t mention anyone _dying_ in his nightmare. No one died, so no one is going to die tonight. Hopefully. Has the news said anything yet? He pauses in the final folds of another crane to listen. Right now it’s on commercials, and he frowns. Hopefully he didn’t miss the announcement.

It’s at that point when he realizes that his crane is all sorts of wrong. Clearly he wasn’t paying attention to some of the folds and he unfolds it with a sigh. His mind is too distracted and that’s a problem when he’s doing the cranes. Castiel needs to focus on his wish while folding these, otherwise it might not come true when he reaches the one thousandth crane. Of course, he doesn’t _actually_ believe that a wish would come true at the end, but it can’t hurt. This is just shy of being nothing more than a fanciful thing to do to pass the time.

With some effort, Castiel forces himself to focus on nothing more than his wish to live peacefully here in Montpelier with Gabriel. He doesn’t want to have to worry about another Witch messing up his life every again. That’s his wish and he keeps that in the forefront of his mind while he refolds the crane until it’s perfect. It’s hard, but he does his best not to think about the firefighters again while he finishes the last of the cranes and carefully strings them up for hanging.

The news doesn’t mention anything about the call Dean is on until Castiel is debating whether or not he wants to take the time to hang the cranes now or if he should wait until later. He stops everything he’s doing to rest his hands on the counter and listen to the DJ talk briefly regarding a fire in some warehouses outside of town. According to her, the firefighters are dealing with it well and everything should be taken care of sooner rather than later. The follow-up crew is already on scene, ready to take over when the firefighters give the all clear.

Castiel breathes a loud sigh of relief as the radio host confirms that there were no casualties. The area was deserted as far as authorities can tell and it’s a cut and paste job for the firefighters. That’s the best news Castiel has heard all night and he can feel his whole body relax with his next exhale. Hopefully this won’t be his usual reaction whenever he learns that Dean is out on a call. If it is, then being friends with a firefighter might make him go gray a lot sooner than he’s expecting to.

On the bright side, now that he knows things are going well, he is _far_ less distracted as he hangs his cranes and moves on to fold a small batch of dragons. He still leaves the news on, just in case, but his nerves are steadier as he spends the next while dealing with a few customers, keeping the café clean, and finishing off his origami for the night.

It’s just over an hour until the end of his shift when he notices a bright set of headlights. There are been false alarms by cars that end up driving past, but these particular headlights turn off outside of Castiel’s field of vision from the counter. He drops everything to run to the door and quickly step outside. Castiel makes it just in time to see the tail end of the fire engine pull into the garage. If it wasn’t for his Creature blood, his eyes likely wouldn’t be strong enough to see that from here.

Now that they’re back, Castiel can enact his plan. It’s not much of a plan, actually, but it’s a gesture of good will. He ducks back inside and takes a few minutes to brew a new pot of coffee. Once Jess came in at five o’clock, the radio was turned back to a music station and she’s been humming away in the kitchen ever since. Hopefully she isn’t working on anything time sensitive right now, or she’s going to have some trouble covering the front when he asks her to in a few minutes.

But first, Castiel has some coffee to make. He references the note Dean left behind to put together the coffee for Bobby and Nick. There are no issues with remembering Dean’s order at least, and he only feels a twinge of regret for not memorizing anyone else’s preferred drink as he pours the two black coffees. If the opportunity arises, he’ll make more of an effort in the future. Right now it seems like he’s playing favourites and his other customers might not appreciate that too much, even though it’s quite close to the truth. He _did_ befriend Dean, after all.

With the coffees prepared, and the treats long since boxed, Castiel is ready to go. He’ll weather the wind with just his hoodie, and hopefully it doesn’t get any colder. His Creature constitution takes the cold better than a regular Human, but he still better be careful or he might catch cold and being sick sucks regardless of being a Creature or not.

“Jess?” Castiel pokes his head through the door into the kitchen and raises his voice over the music. “Can you cover the front for me? I need to step out for a few minutes.”

She dusts her hands on her apron as she turns to him with a smile. “Sure. Everything is chilling or baking right now, so I can spare a few.”

Excellent. “Thank you.”

Since the café is empty right now, Castiel doesn’t feel the need to wait for her. The coffee is hot right now and the walk to the fire station will cool it down quickly. He’s going to need to move quickly, and that’s not much of a problem. With the coffee tray balancing on top of the box, and a hand keeping it steady, Castiel shoulders the door open and heads out. That chill wind immediately starts creaking down the neck of his sweater and he hunches his shoulders against it.

Thankfully it’s a quick walk to the station, but he’s surprised to find that the only door he sees is locked. There are the large garage doors, but they’re closed too. He doesn’t see a door bell or any posted office hours, and that just brings several question to mind. Is this normal for a fire station? Aren’t they supposed to be always open for emergencies? Or do they actually have normal office hours? He’s going to have to ask Dean about it one day, but for now, he’d rather like to get out of the cold.

With some difficulty, Castiel shifts his items to one hand and fishes his phone from his pocket. Rather than take the effort to text Dean, he elects to call him instead. The line rings out twice before it gets picked up on the third attempt.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean sighs and there’s a hard, weary edge to his voice. “Sorry about running out earlier. I –”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel is quick to cut him off as he suppresses a shiver and shuffles his feet. “But could you please open the door to the station for me? I didn’t wear a jacket and it’s a little cold out.”

A string of swears precedes Dean hanging up on him. Castiel hangs up too and puts his phone away. He amuses himself with counting the seconds it takes for Dean to come to the door. It’s only a few moments before he hears the stomp of heavy boots and the sound of the lock turning. When the door open and Castiel almost feels bad for coming over unannounced. Dean looks a little worse haggard, and he’s still rather sweaty with his hair sticking up at all angles.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Despite the harsh words, Dean breaks into a wide smile. Clearly he’s happy to see him, even if it is a bit of a surprise.

Castiel shrugs and holds out the coffee tray and box. “Delivery.”

Dean takes the coffee tray, but makes no move to take the box too. He tilts his head to gesture back inside. “Come on in. My arms feel like jelly after wrestling with that hose and I don’t trust myself to be able to carry all this on my own.”

Well, that’s completely understandable. And, to be honest, Castiel is more than a little be curious about seeing what the inside of the station looks like. There is a hearty pulse of nervousness that starts to pool in his belly about going into a place that isn’t exactly considered open to the public, and it’s going to be full of people he hardly knows. He’s okay being in different stores sometimes, but there’s always that little bit of paranoia when he’s the only one in the store and isn’t sure whether or not they might be able to recognize what he is.

Of course, that doesn’t really apply to this. Aside from Bobby, Castiel is fairly certain that he’s met each and every firefighter at one point or another. He might have even met Bobby at some point without realizing it. Was he at the Halloween party? Possibly, but Dean never pointed him out, so Castiel doesn’t honestly know. What he _does_ know is that he more or less knows these people and he mostly trusts Dean. If worse comes to worst, Castiel knows a light spell that will blind everyone in the room and give him the chance to escape.

He takes a deep breath and follows Dean into the building. Immediately through the door is a lobby like area. There’s an administrative desk to one side and a seating area to the other. At the back of the room is an open door to a bathroom, and next to that is another door with a sign stating _Employees Only_. Behind that door is a set of stairs and Dean heads up them without a word, Castiel following at his heels.

The top of the stairs opens out into what looks to be a communal area. There’s a pole in one corner that obviously leads down to the garage where the trucks are. Along one wall by the pole are cubbies where all the jackets and pants are hung. The other gear, like the air tanks and masks, must be stored at the bottom of the pole. Castiel can’t imagine that they would slide down it wearing all that gear. There would be less sliding involved and more falling at that point, considering the weight of all of it.

Aside from the cubbies, the rest of the room is rather simple. There’s a desk off against one wall with an ancient looking computer on it and several binders standing on a shelf above it. Next to that is a TV and a seating area consisting of a couch, a love seat, and an easy chair. A table stands between that and a tiny kitchenette, though Castiel isn’t sure it can even be called that. There’s a hot plate, a toaster oven, a coffee machine, a sink, a dishwasher, and a mini-fridge under the counter. There are cupboards above it all, but it’s really the smallest kitchenette he’s ever seen.

On the far side of the room are a few more doors. One, again, is obviously a bathroom since the door is wide open. The other room is dark, but Castiel can see the edge of a bed. Castiel assumes that no one is sleeping right now, considering the number of people in the room. Most of them he recognizes. There’s Nick, who made quite the impression when he asked Castiel out. And then there’s a brunette woman laid out on the couch. He’s met her a few times, but she must be the Meg that Dean mentioned earlier. The gruff looking one in the ball cap is most likely Bobby, and that means the last man must be Uriel.

“Hey, guys!” Dean sounds amazingly chipper for someone who just spent the better part of the night dealing with a fire. “Cas brought us coffee!”

Uriel and Bobby look far more refreshed than the others, but they both give their thanks as they come over to the table. Bobby, however, is directing a frown in Dean’s direction and it’s going largely ignored as Dean focuses on passing out the labeled cups. Castiel nods his greeting to everyone as he puts the box of dainties on the table and opens it.

Dean takes the cup with the B on it and holds it out. “Look, Bobby. You got your coffee after all!” Castiel is pleased to find that his guess was correct, but he hides it well as Dean takes the M cup to the woman on the couch. “This one’s yours, Meg.”

“If I was a Church woman, I’d bless you.” She gives Cas a tired smile.

“There wasn’t an order for your earlier, so I’m afraid to say that yours and Uriel’s are merely black coffees.” Castiel gestures at the cup that Dean is handing to Uriel. “I’ll make more of an effort to learn your preferred orders in the future so I’ll know in case this ever happens again.”

Uriel shrugs and takes his coffee to the kitchenette. “This is better than nothing. Thank you.” He glances over his shoulder. “Cream and sugar, Meg?”

“Not this time. I need the bitter kick to keep me awake for the paperwork.”

Castiel looks around at the group, just a little more pleased than he should be by their satisfied smiles as they sip their coffee. “The service you do for this community is much appreciated. This is the least I could do for you tonight.”

Dean pats Castiel on the shoulder as he takes a long sip from his drink. “You’re the best, Cas.”

“Yes, he most certainly is.” Nick gives him a sly smile that Castiel immediately ignores. He turns away before he has to see the up-and-down look he knows he’s going to get. Nick does it every time they see each other and it’s just downright annoying.

“Consider all of this free of charge.” Castiel gestures at the coffee and the box that Nick has now started to pick a few macarons out of. “This is my thanks for dealing with that warehouse fire.”

“Oh jeeze, Cas.” Dean’s nose crinkles with his smile. “Don’t tell me you were listening to the news.”

He shrugs and tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “There wasn’t any other way of making sure that you were okay.”

“Aw, Dean-o!” Meg crows a laugh as she sinks deeper into the couch and kicks off her boots. “He was _worried_ about you!”

A blush rises in Dean’s checks and he ducks his head. “S’fine, Cas. Thanks.” He takes another long sip of his coffee and pointedly ignores the glare Nick throws at the both of them.

After a few beats of silence, Castiel clears his throat and takes a step back towards the stairs. “I left Jess in charge of the café and she should really be dealing with baking instead. I need to go back now.”

“Oh fuck, right, of course.” Dean starts suddenly and turns after him. “I’ll lock up behind you.”

Castiel nods his goodbyes to everyone else and leaves before he has to suffer through any more of Nick’s glances – though right now they’re more glares than anything else. It’s quite obvious that he doesn’t like how Castiel has chosen to spurn his affections while making friends with Dean. But those are two entirely different situations, so it’s nothing to be jealous about. Besides, Castiel hasn’t shown any interest in Nick in the months since the café opened. Shouldn’t he have lost interest now?

Before they reach the door in the lobby, Dean stops Castiel with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t let what Meg was saying get to you, okay? They just like to tease me a lot because of my connections with Bobby and the fact that both my parents work here too.”

“But she was right.” He tilts his head, a frown starting to crease his forehead. “I _was_ worried. I’ve never been friends with a firefighter before and this is the first time where I’ve actually known that you went out on a call. Is it hard to adjust to the worry that something might happen to you on a job?”

Another flush fills Dean’s face and he looks away with a shrug. “I dunno. Sam would be the best to ask about that, since he’s the only one of us who _isn’t_ a firefighter. I mean, I’ve got most of my family and the majority of my friends in here, so it’s pretty much second nature to me to accept that maybe they won’t come back from a job. It’s something I’ve been used to my whole life.”

That’s a good point, though Castiel is going to have to look up how to deal with this kind of thing. He doesn’t particularly look forward to worrying about Dean’s safety every time he sees the truck go by. “I suppose I’ll just have to adjust to it as we continue our friendship.”

Dean’s smile returns, brighter than ever. “If you ever wanna talk about it, I’ve gotten really good at easing Sammy’s nerves about it. Been doing it ever since we were kids.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Castiel nods and turns to go out the door. “I hope you enjoy the coffee and brownies. I’ll talk to you again soon, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean gives his shoulder another squeeze before his hand drops to his side. “Seriously. We really appreciate this.”

Castiel shrugs and ducks his head as he steps out the door. “I’m just happy you’re safe.” He waves over his shoulder as he walks away. Really, he’s not talking about just Dean there either. Castiel is happy that they’re _all_ safe, including Nick – even though he’s been a pain in his side ever since the incident when Nick asked him out.

When he crosses the street, Castiel pauses to glance back over his shoulder. Dean is still in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He raises a hand in a small wave, but makes no motion as though he were to move away from the door. Is he waiting for Castiel to get back to the café safely? If he is, that’s very nice of him and he waves back before continuing. That small gesture is enough to keep him warm the rest of the way to the café.

Jess is waiting at the counter right where Castiel left her. She has, however, processed a few customers, judging by the couple sitting at one of the tables. As soon as she sees him, Jess leans over the counter. “What was that all about? Where did you go?”

“The firefighters had a call this morning.” Castiel shrugs and shoos her out of the way so he can start counting his till. “I took them what would have been their order if Dean hadn’t been called away in the middle of it.”

“Aw, Castiel!” She puts an arm around his shoulders and gives him a tight squeeze. “That was so nice of you! I wish you’d have told me, though. We could have sent some fresh bagels along too.”

“If it happens again, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He shrugs her arm away and gestures back towards the kitchen. “I hope nothing burned while you were covering for me.”

Jess huffs, but there’s a smile on her lips. “Of course not. I’m a better baker than that, I’ll have you know.” She flicks her pony-tail over her shoulder before heading back into the kitchen.

It’s good that she went back to work, because Castiel’s phone beeps right then. He unlocks it to find a message from Dean. **_Seriously, Cas, thanks for the java. Needed that boost to get me through all the paperwork. You’re the best!_**

The message is finished with a heart emoji that takes Castiel a little by surprise, but he shakes the feeling off immediately. To his knowledge, many people use the heart emoji to denote just about anything – including gratitude. Which is likely why Dean is using it. In any case, the message keeps that warm pulsing feeling alive in his chest.

He types out a quick response with a thumbs up emoji and a smiling face. **_You’re welcome. Good luck with the paperwork._**

When he puts his phone away, Castiel feels all the more confident that making friends with Dean was absolutely the right decision – even with the worry about his safety while he’s out on a call.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Saturday – November 21 st, 2015_ **

Dean tries really, _really_ hard not to look Bobby in the face when he returns to the common room. In fact, he zeroes in on the brownies in the box Cas left and tries his best to look like he’s super into it. Which isn’t too hard because, for as annoying as Gabe seems to be, he’s a damn good baker and holy _shit_ that’s a good brownie. Sadly, it’s not enough to distract from the glare he can feel like a drill to the side of his head. He did wrong and he knows he did wrong, but dear God he’s going to act play the fool and look as innocent as fucking possible.

Nick and Meg are making it just a little hard to pull that off. As if their manic grins weren’t enough, one of them is actually snickering. Who even does that? They’re seriously way too pleased to be present for Dean being in trouble. It’s not a real surprise though. Even Charlie and Jo would probably get a kick out of watching him get lectured by the big boss. Probably because Dean’s usually the golden boy of the station and everyone loves watching when the golden boy’s shine gets just a little bit tarnished.

On the plus side, at least Uriel doesn’t seem to give a shit about the lecture Bobby’s going to lay on him any moment now. He’s too busy with getting the binders down from the shelf above the desk because even good food and coffee isn’t enough to distract him from the fact that there’s paperwork to be done. Between everyone in this room, Uriel is the most professional and probably the best firefighter the station has. He can be overbearing and maybe a little too stoic for his own good, but he’s a good guy. Nick seems to think he’s fucking hilarious, but Dean hasn’t seen that side of him yet.

Between paperwork and Bobby’s lecture, Dean honestly isn’t sure which he’d prefer. The paperwork, probably, because he doesn’t have to do that alone. Uriel and Meg were out on the job with him tonight, so he’ll be filling it out with them. The lecture, however, is just for him and Bobby is going to do it in front of everyone just to make sure that they all know the rules and stick to them.

Damn. If Dean had been thirty seconds later with his run to the station earlier, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He would’ve been too late to go out on the call and Nick would have gone in his place. Nick had been totally ready to go too, and he was honestly surprised that Dean got there in time. But everyone thinks that just because Dean was captain of the wrestling team in high school that he can’t kick ass at track. Well, they’re _very_ wrong. Dean is aces at sprinting, he just hates running is all.

Bobby clears his throat and Dean knows his time has come. He takes a bite of a brownie and looks up from his seat at the table with his best innocent look. “What?”

“You know what.” The hat and beard do nothing to hide Bobby’s frown. “You’re not allowed to bring civilians up here, Dean. You know the rules.”

Yes, of course he does, but does that really apply to delivery like this? “Sammy and I used to come up here all the time when we were younger.” There have been exceptions to this rule for ages, and he figured free coffee and food would be included in that.

“Family of the team doesn’t count. You know that.” Bobby crosses his arms and his glare just gets angrier, even though it’s half hidden by the brim of his hat.

“But we were still civilians!” Dean gestures with his brownie before taking another bite. “We were _kids_ , even. And we let school groups do tours of the place all the time.” Heck, sometimes they even let the kids go down the poll for a hoot.

Bobby takes a step forward and puts a hand on the back of Dean’s chair. “Don’t sass me, boy. You know the rules and you broke it. Don’t make me write you up for this.”

Fuck. That means this’ll get back to Mom and he _definitely_ doesn’t want a lecture from her too. Dean slouches in his seat and takes another bite of his brownie, choosing not to answer. Yes, he shouldn’t have let Cas up here. Yes, he was wrong with thinking that it would be okay because he was the bearer of delicious treats and liquid caffeine. No, he’s not going to admit that out loud because he does have his pride and he’ll never hear the end of it from Nick and Meg if he _does_ admit it.

With a sigh, Bobby takes one of the binders from Uriel and drops it on the table in front of him. He takes the pen out of the little pocket on the inside and flips it open. Dean feels like a child as Bobby takes his hand and puts the pen in it. “No friends up here. Do you understand me, Dean?”

He grunts a noncommittal sound, but apparently that’s not good enough because Bobby leans in. “Do we need to take this to my office?”

“No.” Well, any chance of maintaining face in front of Meg and Nick is out the door now. He probably should have said something earlier. “I promise I won’t bring up any free coffee or food from the café ever again.”

Bobby sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “You can make friends all you want, Dean, but unless you’re married to ‘em, I don’t want ‘em up here. Got it?”

He slumps further down in the chair and absently scribbles his name in the proper field on the form he has to fill out. “Yes, Bobby.”

For some Godforsaken reason, Nick seems to think that’s a good point for him to make his presence known to the rest of the room – as if anyone could forget that he’s here. He hums loudly and Dean throws a glare at him, hoping that’ll be enough to keep him from actually saying any words. Of course it doesn’t stop him. Nothing ever would.

“But Bobby!” Nick steps over to drop both hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Didn’t you know that our dear Dean here is just head over _heels_ for that adorable barista who was just in? This time next year, they’ll probably be married and everything.”

Oh sweet mother of God. Did Nick _really_ just go there? That’s it. He’s officially on Dean’s hit list. Least favourite co-worker _ever_. How could he just – Dean hasn’t come out as bisexual to his family yet! That _includes_ Bobby. Now Nick just went and outed him and – and – Hooboy. The repercussions for this are _not_ going to be pleasant for anyone involved. And now Dean’s torn between wanting the earth to swallow him whole, or getting up and strangling Nick right here.

Bobby, bless his gruff soul, answers that question for him. He takes Nick by the wrists and forces him back a few steps. “That ain’t no business of mine _or_ yours. Keep the gossip to yourself, Nick, unless you wanna be stuck washing the trucks with a _toothbrush_ for the rest of the year.”

That seems to cool Nick off pretty quick. He goes a little red in the face and slinks off to sit on the couch. Meg pats him on the shoulder, but she’s grinning like an idiot. It doesn’t matter who’s getting in trouble, she’s going to enjoy it just as long as it isn’t her. She gets up to join Dean at the table and takes one of the macarons while she gets started on her own paperwork. Uriel is already silently starting on his after making the logical decision to stay the hell out of everything.

“We done with all the sass and stupid now?” Bobby looks around the room. No one lifts their head to say anything, so he nods and takes a couple of the macarons and one of the brownies. He heads off to his office with one last parting shot; “Good job tonight, everyone.”

Aside from Uriel, Meg might be the second smartest person in the room. Unlike Nick and Dean, she actually waits until Bobby’s door is shut before she breaks down into giggles. She actually doubles over to press her face against the paper work to muffle her laughter. Well, at least _someone_ is getting a kick out of all this. At least Dean has awesome brownies to keep his mood up. But he can only enjoy those once he’s dealt with Nick.

He’s spared the need to build the willpower needed to acknowledge him by Nick opening his mouth first. “It’s not fair that you’re his favourite.”

“First off; I never _asked_ to be, but I’ve definitely put in the work for it. _Years’_ worth of work, actually.” Dean sits up straighter and fixes Nick with a glare. Ever since he was a kid, he has always been pretty close with Bobby. He’s the uncle that Dean always wanted but never had.

Dean flips Nick off over Meg’s back before pointing his pen at him. “For the record, if you _ever_ mention anything about me and Cas, or me and any kind of attraction to guys, in front of Bobby or my family again, I’ll make sure that you piss your pants every single time you fall asleep while I’m around _and_ spike your food with laxatives whenever you least expect it.”

There’s a pause where Meg and Uriel both look up from their binders to look between him and Nick. Dean stares him down before Nick rolls his eyes and sticks his forked tongue out at him. Well, that’s just ridiculously childish – and Dean sticks his tongue out at him right back because why the fuck not.

At least that’s dealt with, so now he can actually get started on his paperwork. Joy.

*

**_Thursday – November 26 th, 2015_ **

Dean jerks awake with a snort, suddenly very confused and a little bit concerned about what the hell just woke him. He flails a bit to free a hand so he can slap at the side table. Nine times out of ten, if he’s woken up unexpectedly, then it’s because his phone either rang or beeped and his subconscious heard it. Now he’s awake and where the hell is his phone? It should be on the dock but he can’t find the dock and that’s a problem. It means coming out from under his blanket shell even more to find it and he doesn’t want to do that.

By some glorious miracle, the last slap before he gives up actually manages to catch the edge of the charging dock. Dean groans happily and pulls the phone under the blanket so he can actually see it. Oh dear God why did he leave the brightness so high? He groans again, this time in pain, and fumbles to turn it down so he can actually see _without_ his eyeballs feeling like they’re on fire. After a few attempts, he’s finally able to look at his screen with only minimal squinting. Sure enough, there’s a half dozen texts from his mom and one missed call.

Shit. This must be important. Dean sighs and taps the call button before sliding it between his ear and the pillow. It only takes two rings before Mom picks up. “There you are!”

“I was sleeping.” Which isn’t surprising, considering he finished work at eight o’clock this morning and wasn’t in bed until sometime after nine. At least it was definitely before ten.

“Sweetie, it’s already four o’clock.” Mom sighs over his sleepy grunt of acknowledgment. “Dean, light of my life, dinner is in a few hours and you need to get your butt over here to help me with the rest of it.”

Oh God. That’s right. It’s Thanksgiving. _Fuck_. Dean groans loudly again and kicks the blankets off so he can sit up. “I thought the only thing I had to do for tonight was the meatballs.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that you just put that in a slow cooker this morning.” Mom’s tone turns a little harder and Dean immediately knows he’s lost the battle. “That hardly counts as helping. I need your big muscles to mash potatoes, and the yams, and I need you to make sure the pie is up to your standards.”

Shit. She pulled the _pie_ card. Dean sighs loudly and stands up so he can stretch. “Fine, fine. I’ll shower and make my way over within the hour.”

“You had better!” Her tone perks up noticeably. “Dinner is at six thirty and your dad is already starting to get _hangry_.”

Well feels like a slap in the face and Dean shakes himself out from his stretch. “How in the hell do you know what _hangry_ is?”

“I’m hip.” She almost sounds insulted. “I use the Google.”

Please, God. No. “Mom. Don’t do this.”

“Oh, give me some credit.” Mom laughs and Dean immediately relaxes. It’s always so bad when she tries to keep up with all the lingo. “Sam taught that to me. Just like he does everything else after you moved out because you never spend time with me anymore.”

“Now you’re just flat out lying.” Everyone knows that Dean is the biggest mama’s boy in town. Not only does he see her at work every other day, but he spends more than half his free time over at their house every other evening.

Mom laughs loudly. “Within the hour, Dean! I’m holding you to it!”

With that, she hangs up. It’s so final that he _knows_ he’s going to get hell if he’s any later than five o’clock. And that’s not really leaving a whole lot of time. So he better get his ass in the shower, and that’s straight where he goes. Thank the gods of rock and roll that he had the foresight to prepare everything he needs to bring with him this morning. All he has to do is get shower, get dressed, and get everything in the car. God bless leftovers.

Dean had a small Thanksgiving dinner on Tuesday night with Charlie and Jo. It was more elaborate than anything he’d usually make, given the holiday, but it was still pretty small. There was a full chicken mashed potatoes, gravy, a homemade pumpkin pie, meatballs, and a couple vegetable dishes made from Jo’s garden. The meatballs were definitely the easiest part to make because those definitely came from a box with a bottle of sauce and went right into the slow cooker – just like what he’s making for tonight’s dinner. Those would have been _way_ too much effort to make from scratch.

The dinner didn’t _need_ to be elaborate considering it was just for the three of them. Well, them and Sam. He somehow managed to weasel his way into the dinner as an excuse for more food since he’s a goddamn bottomless pit. If Sam wasn’t his little brother, he would have refused. But Dean loves him and couldn’t exactly say no. Well, kinda. He _did_ deny Sam any leftovers. Those are for Charlie and Jo, since they’re both working today and neither one is going to get a Thanksgiving dinner with their families.

Charlie _could_ have gone out of town on her days off, but it’s a few hours to where her parents moved to. Because of that, she spends most of the smaller holidays here in town. Big ones, like Christmas, call for the actual drive out. And Jo, on the other hand, does have a mom that’s rather close to town. Unfortunately, Ellen is really wrapped up with Roadhouse renovations and hasn’t had the time to prepare a full dinner like she did when Jo was growing up. They saw each other on Jo’s day off, but Ellen was totally okay with letting Dean take care of the food.

For all the work that he put into the dinner, and it really wasn’t that much, everyone seemed to like it. Better than that, Charlie and Jo were actually _happy_ to take leftovers to work tonight. They’re probably going to be eating by the time he’s finished with this shower and that’ll be the last of the leftovers from Tuesday. Everything else was eaten Wednesday night. With Sam having dinner with them, there really wasn’t that many leftovers to start with. Dean had to beat him away from the pots and pans with a wooden spoon so he could put together the dinners for Charlie and Jo to take tonight.

And now he gets to do it all over again. He dug his own grave on this one, but he really wanted to do it for Charlie and Jo. Besides, he probably should have gotten up anyways. It’s getting lane and he _needs_ to help with the food. Otherwise Mom is going to be doing all the work because Dad and Sam can’t cook worth shit. Dad is a TV dinners kind of guy, and Sam tends to favour _natural_ foods. He eats a stupid amount of salads, or rather basically anything he can just throw into a bowl and eat with minimal amounts of actual _cooking_.

Clearly, Dean is his mother’s son.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, Dean has a mission once he finishes his shower. He takes enough time to dry his hair and pat down before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading back to the bedroom to get his phone.

**_Happy Thanksgiving, Cas! Hope you and your bro have a good time together today._ **

**_ _ **

There. Now that’s taken care of, Dean can get back to getting dressed. That only takes him a few minutes, since he already had his outfit picked out. He knows what his parents consider acceptable family dinner attire, and he’s got those clothes put to one side of his closet so they’re easy to find when he needs to. Plus, they’re all clothes that go on hangers, so there’s no rooting through drawers.

Dean honestly isn’t expecting there to be a response from Cas waiting for him when he steps out of the closet fully dressed. **_Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Dean._** In the time it takes him to read that, another message pops in just beneath it. **_Gabriel is very tired after his shift earlier today. Apparently the entire population of Montpelier came into the café to buy their dessert for their dinners tonight. We’re going to be having a bastardized version of those dinners tonight._**

While he’s contemplating what that means, a third message pops in. **_Dinner tonight consists of open faced hot turkey sandwiches for supper. That’s really all Gabriel has the energy to make and neither of us sees a reason to make a huge meal for just the two of us._**

That is just so _Cas_ to think about things like that. It’s adorable and Dean chuckles his way through typing out another letter. **_You’re up early! Hope I didn’t wake you. Honestly, that sounds like a totally acceptable alternative to a big dinner!_**

Dean is in the middle of brushing his teeth and putting the finishes touches to his hair when Cas responds again. **_It is, though I must admit I’m a little disappointed. I was hoping to have something a little like what we used to have when our parents were alive. Especially now that we’re trying to create a new home here._**

Whoa, hold on. His parents are _dead_? Dean has his suspicions from previous conversations, but this is actual confirmation and wow, that fucking _sucks_. He can’t imagine losing both parents. And now the stench of _depressing_ is all over these messages and Dean needs to turn things around ASAP before Cas manages to sink into the kind of sadness that’s almost impossible to get someone out of.

 ** _There’s always next year!_** He ends that with a smiley face because Cas seems to like them. His messages always have at least one included at some point in the conversation.

Sure enough, Cas responds with the same emoticon. **_That’s true. Hopefully we’ll still be here for that._**

Holy shit. Dean’s frown gets a little deeper and he squints at his phone. Why is Cas hinting that he might _leave_? Where are they going to go? Back to wherever they were before their parents died? **_I’d be pretty sad if you weren’t._**

About two seconds after sending the message, Dean gets hit with insta-regret. Why did he send that? It just sounds – it sounds like he _wants_ Cas here. He does, but it sounds kinda clingy and Dean doesn’t want to look like that. They’re working at being _friends_ here. If he freaks out about this, he’s totally going to give away his end game here.

He relaxes the moment he gets another smiley face emoticon from Cas. **_I would be too. I’m starting to really like it here._**

Well, goddamn! After sending another smiley face, Dean practically skips his way down into the kitchen because that just blew away any worries that he had. It sounds so ridiculously promising that his chest actually _hurts_ from how happy this makes him. Okay, this day is off to a good start – even though he slept most of the day away anyways.

Cas texts again while Dean is throwing some Tupperware containers into a reusable shopping bag. **_Gabriel and I are about to start dinner now – which is why I’m up so early. I hope you have a good time with your family today._**

He takes a quick break so he can respond. **_You too, Cas. And I hope your shift tonight is a good one!_**

It kinda sucks that Cas is going to be working on Thanksgiving though, but at least he doesn’t start until eleven o’clock. That’s well after dinner time, so he’s probably not going to be _that_ busy. Would the café even get busy tonight? It’s a _café_ , not a full restaurant, so how many people would go there for a meal instead of making one for themselves? Dean’s always had a home cooked meal for this holiday, so he honestly doesn’t know what other people do.

Either way, Dean is practically walking on air as he takes the crockpot out to the car and _very carefully_ puts it on the floor of the passenger seat. He wedges it in place with his shopping bag of Tupperware containers and even covers it with a towel because if he gets just one drop of meatball sauce on the Impala’s interior _anywhere_ – well, he’d probably give up on life and drive off the first bridge he sees. Not _actually_ , but he’d be _really_ upset if he messed up the car in anyway because of something as stupid (although delicious) as meatballs.

*

Dean stifles a burp with his hand and leans back in his chair. With a loud and _very_ happy sigh, he rubs his belly with both hands. “After that, I’m not going to need to eat again until next year.”

“I’m not surprised.” Dad rests his cheek on his fist and gives Dean the same kind of look he gives the engine of the fire truck when it’s making a weird noise he can’t figure out. “You ate _three_ full plates.”

“You’re just jealous, old man.” He turns a grin on his dad and stretches out more in his chair. “You’re just losing your touch.”

That earns him a flat, disapproving look. At least it doesn’t have the edge to it that normally has Dean diving for cover. Dad narrows his eyes before he stands up with his plate in hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Mom reaches up and puts a hand on his shoulder to force him to sit back down. She takes the plate from him as she gets to her feet, adding it to her plate. “I’m not going to let you eat yourself sick right now. If you’re still hungry, you can have leftovers _later_.”

Dad points at Dean. “You let _him_ have three plates.”

“He’s a growing boy.” She shrugs and leans down to kiss the top of Dean’s head as she walks back to the kitchen. “And he needs to keep up his strength after everything he eats.”

“But he’s in his _twenties_!” His complaints go completely ignored as Mom starts taking what few dishes they have on the table back to the kitchen.

Sam stands up to, taking Dean’s dish with his. “Is no one going to comment on the fact next year is only a month away and he probably _could_ go that long without eating?”

No one answers, but Dean does elbow Sam in the hip as he walks by. That’s what he gets for trying to be a smart ass. And failing, actually. Sam’s much better at silent quips. He makes the most adorable pissed off face and Dean sometimes says or does things just so he’ll make one. It’s part of the joys of being the big brother and he relishes the perks that come with the position. Not immediately helping to clean up is a part of that perk – mostly because Dean _did_ eat three full plates of Thanksgiving dinner and he needs to get this food baby under control first.

Once he feels like he can move without belching and throwing up, he gets up to go help clean. Thankfully, the mess isn’t too big. Big dinners like this are held without anything being fit on the table. Mom lines everything up on the island portion of their U-shaped kitchen and the family through it buffet style. It definitely works, and then in the end they only have pots and pans to wash. Half of it just needs a good soak before they throw it in the dishwasher, and Mom always makes sure the dishwasher is empty before dinner so they have the space for it.

Mom is in the process of taking all the Tupperware containers out of the cupboards when Dean makes it to the kitchen. He puts his hands on her shoulders and guides her out to the living room. “C’mon, Mom. You know the rules. All the cooking is over and now your job is done.”

She sighs, but doesn’t actually debate. These _are_ the rules, after all. It’s been that way since Dean and Sam were little. Whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, or any other massive meal, the ones who do the cooking aren’t allowed to help with the cleaning. That’s done by everyone who did the eating and none of the help with cooking.

“Dad. Sammy. Get your butts in here and help with cleaning.” Dean gestures at the mess, which isn’t even that bad. Mom is a _very_ clean cook. Mostly because she hates mess and she’s not actually much of a cook. The only time she goes all out is for the holidays and Sunday’s. Every other night isn’t _that_ great, but she tries. Actually, most of Dean’s cooking skills come from his grandma.

With some grumbling, Dad gets up to help clean. Sam is already there and filling the sink with water because he knows the rules and he’s not going to fight them. That and he’s been on the receiving end of one of Dean’s headlocks and he knows what’ll happen if he complains. There might be some dissention in the troops, and that’s because Dad can be a big ol’ grump sometimes. That’s just a base aspect of his personality, so there’s nothing they can do about that.

Dean makes sure that they’re both starting on dish duty and table clean up before he gets to work preparing his own Tupperware containers. As the token child who doesn’t live at home anymore, he gets first dibs on leftovers – which is why Mom made so much. He’s only going to fill up a couple containers, and he’s going to do it in such a way that each container is a full meal in and of itself. Meals like this are literally the only reason he went out of his way to buy segmented Tupperware.

With all the leftovers available, Dean manages to make _three_ containers for himself. Depending on how sick he is of Thanksgiving leftovers by tomorrow, the other two might before Charlie and Jo. Or he might get creative and make himself an awesome sandwich. Either way, he’s got food for the next few days and he can definitely put off going grocery shopping until his next day off.

Once his containers are full, Dean moves on to emptying the pots and pans directly into the bigger containers that Mom pulled out. This is the extent of what he has to do to help clean up. Since he helped with the cooking, he’s only _semi_ -exempt from dish duty. Sam and Dad, however, are the ones rinsing and loading the dishwasher with all the plates and whatever else they can fit. By the time it’s full, they’re only left with a few pots to hand wash. While Dad takes up the drying cloth, Sam gets elbow deep in the sink because he lost the rock-paper-scissors battle. He was foolish for even trying that. Dean almost always loses to Sam, but no one has ever beaten Dad. Not even _Mom_.

“Alright, have fun you two.” Dean salutes to the two at the sink. “I’ll be watching TV with Mom until you guys are done.”

“And when we are, expect to get your ass handed to you at Monopoly.” Dad flaps the dish towel at Dean. Not only has he won at every game of rock-paper-scissors since forever, but he’s won the vast majority of Monopoly games.

Mom pipes up from the living room. “What about that new card game you bought, Sammy?”

“Oh God. Mom, no. We are _not_ playing Cards Against Humanity.”

“Oh my God. _Yes_.” Dean throws his head back with a laugh as he drops onto the couch next to his mom. “We _definitely_ have to play that! We’ll get to find out what kind of depraved and terrible people we really are and it’s going to be _awesome_.”

There’s some murmuring for the kitchen before Dad laughs loudly. “Sorry, Sam. You just convinced me that it’s definitely going to be fun.”

“ _Damn_.”

Dean leans over to whisper to his mom. “He just doesn’t want to play because he keeps losing at it _hard_. Poor guy is just too innocent for the game.”

They played it together on Tuesday with Charlie and Jo, and both got their asses kicked one hundred percent. Charlie is apparently magical at this game, because she had a sweeping victory with every single game they played. Even Jo got more black cards than Sam did, and he’s apparently not taking that crushing defeat all too well. Poor guy is likely worried that he’s going to get beaten by Mom and Dad because they know each other’s humours better than anybody. Not to mention that Sam is probably going to be too nervous to play anything _really_ raunchy with both his parents playing too.

And _that_ is why Dean is looking forward to it so much.

Once the kitchen is cleaned, Sam and Dad join them in the living room. It takes them a little while and by then, Dean and Mom are really into a movie they stumbled upon. Dean doesn’t even bother with the name of it. Mom seems to like it and it’s actually kinda interesting, so he’s happy with it. Dad and Sam know better than to object too, even if it _is_ some kind of romance movie. Normally Dad is all sorts of against these because he’s a _manly man_ and _men_ don’t watch this kind of thing, but he doesn’t really get the chance to complain when Mom cuddles up to him with the happy sigh. If Dad was Superman, Mom would be his Kryptonite – but in the good way.

When the movie comes to an end, Sam is suddenly _really_ focused on giving Bones a hearty rub down – especially since he was closed up in Dad’s study for the whole dinner. He pointedly ignores that everyone has been looking at him since the credits started rolling. Sam actually flinches when Mom clears her throat and he looks at everyone on the couch with those wide innocent eyes that he _must_ have learned from Bones. Mom clears her throat again and raises her eyebrows at him. It’s a wordless command, and it works like a charm.

Dean tries really hard to stop himself from smiling, but it’s incredibly difficult. There’s just a certain joy to be had when your sibling is the one under scrutiny. Honestly, Dean doesn’t get to feel like this very often. Especially now that he’s left the house. Sam is pretty much a model child the majority of the time, so even growing up he wasn’t one for getting in trouble. Though Dad does ride his case _a lot_ for not having an interest in being a firefighter or working at the station. It’s _the family business_ , as Dad puts it.

Sam leaves the room for a few minutes and returns with a sulky pout and the long black box for _Cards Against Humanity_. “Where do you want to play? On the couch or at the table?”

“We’ve been at the table enough tonight.” Mom moves the decorative bowl from the top of the coffee table to underneath it. “Deal them right here, Sammy.”

He sighs loudly and drops to his knees, since he’s going to sit on the floor with Bones. “Okay. But this isn’t your normal card game. Dean, explain the rules.”

“Buckle up, family.” Dean leans forward and cracks his knuckles. “Because this is gonna be a _fun_ ride.”

*

“I can’t believe you won with ‘ _If you detect it early, you can stop __________ ’ with ‘ _an_ _all-ages furry convention’_.” Sam flops backwards on the floor and is immediately assaulted with slobbery dog kisses.

Mom looks as smug as a pig in shit as she separates the black and white cards from each other before putting them in the box. “And the fun part is that I don’t even know what a _furry convention_ is!”

“ _Don’t_ tell her!” Sam points dramatically at Dean without lifting his head.

“Oh please, Sam. I have access to the internet and nothing can stop me from finding out if I want to.” She rolls her eyes and slides the lid into place.

“This was more frustrating than I originally thought it would be.” Dad slumps back on the couch with a sigh. He’s probably just disappointed he actually lost at a game for a change. “And longer than I imagined. How late is it?”

Dean checks his watch and winces. “It’s after eleven o’clock. I should probably head back. Don’t wanna keep you guys up too late.”

“Sweetie, it’s Thanksgiving.” Mom pats him on the knee as she pushes herself up to stand. “We’re not firefighters. We get tomorrow off and Sam doesn’t work.”

“Good point.” He muffles a yawn and looks up at her. “How about because I’m tired and still recovering from getting off work this morning? Is that a viable excuse to go home?”

Dad rolls his head to one side to give Dean a flat look. “If you wanna go home, no one’s stopping you.”

“I feel the love, Dad.” Regardless, Dean still gets to his feet. “But you’ve been half asleep for the last hour. That’s why you didn’t win any rounds.”

“Come, sweetie, don’t antagonize your father.” Mom shoos him out of the living room with a smile. “I made you a separate pie to take home because I’m the best mom in the world.”

Of fucking course she is. Dean hugs her hard enough to lift her of the ground a bit. He can’t imagine what life would be like without her, or where he’d be if she hadn’t been such a big part of his life when he was growing up. Would he even still be a firefighter? If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have practically grown up in the station until he hit school age. His life without his mom is literally impossible for him to imagine and, to be honest, he doesn’t want to think about it.

He gives her a big kiss on the cheek before putting her down to get his leftovers and extra pie out of the fridge. It’s time to pack them up with his _clean_ crockpot and head on home. Dad doesn’t get up from the couch to see him out, but Dean gets a goodbye wave and yawn-muffled ‘ _see ya_ ’. After a big Thanksgiving dinner and a half dozen beers, that’s actually pretty good for him. Sam and Mom, however, follow him to the door to say their goodbyes.

Even after he’s on the road, Dean has that warm feeling spreading through his chest that he always gets from spending time with his family. They’re some of his favourite people in the world and he wouldn’t give them up for anything. There are very few people he gets this kind of feeling from being around them. In fact, the list is more or less is comprised entirely of family. Too bad Bobby wasn’t able to make it tonight. He had _other_ things to do, apparently. Probably it was so he could have dinner with that nice neighbour of his that keeps flirting with him. That ol’ _dog_.

There’s next to no one on the road right now, and Dean feels comfortable to do a jaw-cracking yawn that almost squeezes out a few tears. He eases the brake as he approaches the yield onto Barre Street. Either he merges onto that street and continues straight down to Main to take the long way home, or he makes a sharp left that might not be entirely legal so he can take the _much_ shorter route to go over a much closer bridge.

The only reason he’d take the long way would be to drive past the _Graveyard Shift_ and that would just be _crazy_ , wouldn’t it? Oh, but now that the thought is in his head, he’s finding it really hard to make his hands start turning the wheel. What he needs to do right now is go home and get a good night’s rest so he can spend tomorrow doing all the shit around the house that he needs to do. There’s laundry, cleaning the bathroom, and making supper for the girls when they wake up because his today is their tomorrow, more or less.

Dean pumps the brake a little more and glances at the seat next to him. More specifically, he eyes up the bag of leftovers. He’s got three full meals in there and that’s _more_ than enough for him. Cas, on the other hand, hardly had a Thanksgiving dinner today. What he had was probably plenty satisfying and Dean would’ve been totally happy if that’s all he had today. _But_ – well, there’s a part of him that really wants to share his leftovers with Cas because then he could show off his mom’s cooking and his own to a lesser extent.

No, _no_. That would just be creepy, wouldn’t it?

He’s not going to do it. _Dammit_. Dean is _not_ going to do it.

_** ** _

**_Thursday – November 26 th, 2015_ **

Although he’s only been working the café for a few months, this has _got_ to be the most boring shift Castiel has ever had. According to Anna, she hadn’t seen anyone in hours before he came down to relieve her. And Castiel even came in _early_ – partially because they have to pay her overtime for being here and he’d rather do the work himself in that case. Besides, Anna should be with her family for the holidays. Though… Do the Fae even celebrate Thanksgiving? Darn. He should have asked her that before he sent her home.

Oh well. At least he has cleaning to keep him occupied. He could read or do his origami, but when is the next time that he’s going to have the chance to thoroughly _clean_ the café like this? Business was a little busy earlier in the afternoon as customers were coming in to buy plenty of baked goods to use at their own dinners later on. After that died off, it quite literally _died off_. There hasn’t been anyone since around four o’clock, according to Anna.

As such, Castiel has moved all the tables and chairs. He’s done his best to stack all the tables and chairs out of the way by making use of the platform at the top of the stairs, the stairs themselves, and the space at the bottom of them. He’s even pulled all the books and games and plants off the bookcases so he can wipe everything down with a damp cloth and pull them away from the walls so he can clean the wall and floor behind them.

Literally everything in the café is getting a _very_ thorough dusting – including the spaces _behind_ and _under_ every machine on the counter. Once he’s done with that, he’ll sweep and mop as well once he’s done all the other cleaning. He’s even going to empty and wipe down the mini-fridge under the counter, all the cupboards, and the shelves with the dishes on them. There isn’t a single surface in this café that’s going to be safe from his cleaning rag tonight.

Since he’s going to devote the majority of his shift to this, Castiel _has_ actually laid down rules for himself. If he’s not done by the last hour of his shift, then he’s going to stop so he can do his origami. There are ten cranes that _need_ to be done during this shift, because he doesn’t want to do _twenty_ tomorrow. He’ll have to put everything back where it belongs and finish the rest of his cleaning on Friday night.

If he doesn’t get a single customer, Castiel should be able to get everything done easily. Given that it’s a holiday and it’s late, he honestly doesn’t expect to anyone to come in tonight. If anyone _does_ come in, it will likely be one person in the middle of the night looking for a caffeine fix because they’re working overnight too. Actually, he fully expects one of the firefighters to come in just as they always do ever since the café opened. Part of him kind of hopes that no one will stop by so he doesn’t have to feel embarrassed to be caught out while the café looks so messy.

That said, he honestly doesn’t expect the bell above the door to jingle before it’s even midnight. Castiel is up on a chair so he can dust the top of the bookcase kept behind the counter. Of anyone who could be walking in right now, the last person he thought he would see is _Dean_. He’s hanging back in the doorway, shifting awkwardly on his feet as he glances around at the tables.

When Dean notices that Castiel is looking at him, he breaks into a bright smile. “Hey, Cas! Are you actually open right now?”

Castiel drops down from the chair and waves a dismissive hand at everything on the counters. “I’m taking advantage of how dead it’s been because of Thanksgiving. I’m surprised you came in.”

Dean ducks his head and shuffles over to the counter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not.” He shakes his head and smiles. “I’m happy to see you. Did you come in for some desserts?” With a sigh he glances at the mostly empty display case. “I’m afraid we don’t really have many options for you right now.”

“You say that, but I totally see a pie right there.” With a flourish, Dean gestures at the pie stand that Castiel had moved to the back counter to make room for the items from the bookshelves. “Mom gave me a pie of my own, but I’ll never say no to some of yours.”

Castiel mentally kicks himself for forgetting about the pie entirely. “Gabriel made an apple pie because he thought everyone would be sick of pumpkin. It’s not as fresh as I usually have them for you, but you’re welcome to it if you want it.

“Awesome.” Dean smiles brightly, and then does the last thing Castiel would ever expect him to do. He places a Tupperware container on the counter and slides it over. “Here, this is for you.”

For him? Castiel looks down at it, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s never seen a container with so many segments before. He can clearly see mashed potatoes and gravy, some slices of turkey and ham, meatballs, and a few other things. While he knows _what_ this is, Castiel has some difficulty wrapping his head around _why_ Dean is giving it to him.

Dean shifts on his feet again and spreads his hands. “It’s Thanksgiving dinner in a box!”

“I had Thanksgiving dinner.” He tilts his head slightly and looks up from the container. Did Dean _really_ make a container of leftovers for him? If he did, Castiel honestly doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about this.

“You had a lazy man’s Thanksgiving dinner.” Any confidence Dean had about his gift looks to be draining out of him and his shoulders slump slightly. “This is a full one with all the trimmings.”

Castiel picks up the container and turns it around in his hands, trying to figure out what the orange mush in one of the containers might be. “And you’re giving it to me?”

“I thought you might get hungry during your shift, so I brought you this.” Dean shrugs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I mean, if you want it, that is. You _can_ eat it, right?” He has his keys in his other hand and they jingle as he starts to fidget with them. “You said you had the turkey sandwich earlier, but I guess I didn’t check that you don’t have some kind of special diet or something.”

“What kind of special diet do you think I would have?” He raises and eyebrow and looks up from the container. It’s very likely that Dean might think he’s a Vampire, given how most people assume that just from his physical characteristics. Now he’s curious is Dean thinks the same.

A flush fills Dean’s cheeks and he looks away. “I dunno. I just – Sorry. This was dumb. I shouldn’t have done it without asking you first.”

Castiel tries _really_ hard to keep himself from smiling. “Do you think I drink _blood_ , Dean?”

He probably shouldn’t be so amused by how white Dean goes, or how wide his eyes get. That hopeless look is more than a little adorable and Castiel can’t stop himself from grinning now. Normally he hates the topic of his species, but Dean’s reactions are easing his usual discontent with this subject matter. Of course Castiel has zero intention of actually confirming what he is, but it couldn’t hurt to tease Dean a little more, could it?

After a few minutes of opening and closing his mouth without an actual response, Castiel takes pity on him. “It’s alright, Dean. I don’t drink blood.”

Relief has Dean’s shoulder sag slightly before he straightens them up again. “For the record, one of my best friends is a Vampire, so I’m totally cool with them. I’m also all for the Creature Rights movement and everything, if that helps.”

“We already have the same rights as you.” The movement never really made much sense to him. Granted, since he really doesn’t go out all that often, he doesn’t really concern himself too much with things like that.

Dean shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not everywhere, though. The movement is to let you _keep_ those rights. A lot of towns and cities treat Creatures like 2 nd class citizens, or they’re trying to take what you have away from you. It’s like those stores that refuse to stay open late enough for the Creatures that can’t come out during the daylight.”

“I see.” Castiel would have known that if he bothered to actually look into the movement himself. Now he feels rather silly for not doing it. “That would be nice, actually. Gabriel gets annoyed with me if I send him out too often during the day to do something that I can’t do at night. Although it is easier during the winter when the sun sets _much_ earlier than the summer.”

“I totally get that.” He bobs his head in a nod and flashes Castiel another smile. “The Creature’s Rights Act and all the laws that are forming around it are still pretty new. Montpelier is great, but we’ve still got a bunch of stick-in-the-mud businesses that close at something like nine o’clock.”

“And the sun doesn’t set until nine or later during the summer, so you can see how that might be inconvenient for someone like myself.” Castiel shrugs and steps away from the counter to move the pie stand back into place so he can start boxing it up. Though he should probably confirm with Dean whether he wants the whole thing or just one slice.

Actually, since Dean brought him leftovers, Castiel is heavily considering just giving give him the whole pie as a gift. It’s also just _really_ nice to know that the one friend that he’s made thus far is so accepting of Creatures. Since he normally blends in so well with Humans, Castiel doesn’t often deal with the racism that some Creatures can get. The only really obvious things that set him aside from a Human are his wings (that no one but his family have ever seen), his teeth (which most people don’t notice), and the fact that he can’t go out in the sun (something he doesn’t actually advertise).

It takes a moment for him to realize that Dean is literally the only person who has officially confirmed that Castiel is _not_ a Vampire. To his understanding, Vampires _need_ to drink blood to survive, but they are still capable of keeping up appearances by eating and drinking other things. That’s what has helped keep their species alive this long. Otherwise they might have been wiped out completely when Creature hunters were more popular way back when.

Dean clears his throat and gestures at the container of leftovers. “Are you – um – do you actually want them? I mean, they’re only leftovers and everything, but I’ve had so many Thanksgiving leftovers during the last few days that I’ll get sick of eating it before I’m done what I’ve got in the car.”

Oh, yes. Castiel hasn’t officially accepted this gift yet, has he? He cracks open the lid to actually look at the contents. Everything smells delicious and his mouth starts to water almost immediately. Although this gift is unexpected, and perhaps just a little weird, Castiel does find it somewhat touching. Dean clearly went out of his way to bring him this, and it’s likely because earlier today he mentioned being disappointed at not having a proper Thanksgiving meal. In an odd way, this is rather sweet of him.

“Thank you, Dean. I look forward to eating this later.” Castiel looks up at him and is almost blinded by Dean’s brightest smile yet. Is he easily pleased by simple things? Because he always has such happy smiles even when they’re talking about something seeming insignificant. But it’s such a nice smile and Castiel can’t deny the strange urge he has to do something to keep that smile going.

He puts a hand on the pie stand to draw Dean’s attention to it. “As thanks, I would like to give you the pie for free.”

“Oh my God, Cas, no.” Dean shakes his head and holds up both his hands. “I can’t do that. That’s part of your _business_ and if you gotta make money off of it. If you’re not going to get any customers tonight, then at least let me pay for that.”

There’s a determined set to his jaw that Castiel outright ignores. He wants to repay Dean’s kindness in some way, but he also doesn’t want to turn this into some kind of fight between them. “What if I only charge you the employee rate? That’s fifty percent off the total.”

Dean bites his bottom lip and looks at the pie. There’s clearly some kind of internal debate going on, and it’s just this side of cute. Does he really love pie that much? Are there any other treats or foods that he likes as much as he does pie? If there are, Castiel wants to learn them. Maybe he could try making it himself next time. How surprised would Dean be if his next pie was handmade by Castiel instead of Gabriel? He’s a terrible baker, but the urge to try just to surprise his friend is growing quickly.

With a loud sigh, Dean holds out his hand. “Okay, fine. You have yourself a deal.”

Castiel laughs and shakes his hand. It’s only been a few weeks since he and Dean exchanged phone numbers and officially became friends. Since then, laughs have slowly but surely been coming to him more easily than before. Honestly, it’s a little amazing. He never thought that having a friend would make such a difference in _him_ personally. For one, Castiel can literally _feel_ his defenses dropping somewhat whenever Dean is around.

Of course, no matter what, he’s never going to reveal what he is or anything about his past that might hint to it. But a part of him really does want to open up to Dean at least a little bit – like how he confirmed that he isn’t a Vampire. As much as Castiel tries to deny that side of him, he really does crave a connection with someone else. He can try lying to himself, but he knows that only having Gabriel in his life won’t be enough. And it wouldn’t be fair to Gabriel if he has to be solely responsible for keeping Castiel company for the rest of his life either.

Honestly speaking, he probably shouldn’t have confirmed that he isn’t a Vampire. That’s just one less thing for Dean to consider whenever he tries to figure out what Castiel is. And yet, strangely enough, he doesn’t mind it too much. He’s not _nearly_ as paranoid about this situation as he thought he would be. Maybe it’s because at this point is mostly fairly certain that he can trust him? Dean is a very nice person. He’s amusing, thoughtful, and he’s much smarter than he appears to be. Thus far he’s been nothing but a good friend and Castiel is very happy to have met him.

Maybe he _should_ listen to what Gabriel has been saying. He’s been suggesting recently that Castiel should ask Dean to go shopping with him, or go to dinner, or even see a movie. While those all sound very nice, Castiel isn’t exactly _ready_ for that just yet. He’s comfortable hanging out with Dean in the safety of the café, or even to visit him briefly at the station. That felt more like stopping in at a shop than anything else, considering it was meant to be just dropping off the coffee. But to spend time with Dean _elsewhere_? That might take another week or so of friendship. Not to mention that Castiel hasn’t _hung out_ anywhere with anyone for over a dozen years now.

Castiel looks up from boxing up the pie. Dean is now in the midst of explaining what all is in the container of leftovers, including what parts of it he helped to make. He’s very animated in detailing how he helped his mother with everything, and then with describing the highlights of the games they played after dinner. His stories are so thoroughly amusing and Castiel is enjoying listening to him so much that he’s actually purposefully taking his time with putting the pie in a box.

If he takes his time, Dean might stay a little longer. It’s perhaps a little selfish of him to do, but Castiel is sure he’ll be forgiven for it. He hasn’t had a friend in a _very_ long time and he’s really does enjoy spending time with Dean. Besides, he doesn’t exactly look like he’s in much of a hurry to leave either. From what he can tell, Dean is more than happy to lean against the counter and talk the time away. And, to be honest, Castiel is more than happy to let him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Friday – November 27 th, 2015_ **

Dean keeps a wary eye out for any spider webs and their respective owners as he climbs the ladder up into the rafters of the garage. The cross beams act as support for not just the roof, but the many storage bins he’s got up here. His organization demons made sure that everything up here was properly stored in big ass Rubbermaid bins and were properly labeled with chalk labels where he could easily re-write what’s in them.

“C’mon, Winchester. Let’s get a move on!” Jo punches him in the thigh and Dean’s leg nearly buckles from it. “We don’t have all day.”

“We have the whole damn day and if you don’t want me to land on your head when I fall, _don’t_ do that again.” He throws her a dirty look before climbing to the top of the step ladder and straddling it to brace himself better. “Charlie, is she standing properly before I start passing her these bins?”

Jo groans loudly and he gets a pinch on his thigh this time. “I’m a _firefighter._ I think I know my way around a goddamn ladder.”

While that might be true, she’s not exactly standing on a _ladder_. Right now she’s on a _step-stool_ to give herself some height when it comes to taking the bins that Dean’s going to be pulling down and handing off to her. Charlie’s the one on foot and that’s because she’s stronger than the average girl. She’ll be helping brace the bottom of the bin as Jo sorta just supports them en route from Dean’s hands to Charlie’s. Jo could easily hold it all herself, but she wanted the support job so she wouldn’t have to go back and forth to heft the bins into the house.

“Charlie, be my witness when Ellen is mad at me because Jo fell and broke her neck for not standing on the stool properly.”

Dean doesn’t even bother looking down at them while he picks the lightest of the bins to start with and slides it off one of its supporting beams.  He takes a moment to pop the top on it and check inside to make sure that it’s exactly what he wants. Of course it is, because everything has his nice chalk labels on it, but he’s delighted by what he finds. Right there on the top is his favourite Santa hat and Dean pulls it out to put on. The springy red top wobbles and feels a little weird at first, but he likes it.

He pulls out a handful of tinsel to wave at the girls below, just to prove that it’s the right bin. They both roll their eyes at him. Dean sticks his tongue at them before tucking the tinsel away again. With the lid snapped back into place, he works the bin through the gaps between the rafters and runs it over one of his thighs to pass it off.

“Hey, don’t bring me into this.” Charlie pointedly ignores the dirty look Jo throws between the two of them while she guides the bin into Charlie’s hands. “I want this over and done with as soon as possible. I’ve got some equipment and software updates to do for my computer before Rainbow Six Siege comes out on December First.”

That sets off red flags in Dean’s head. “It’s only releasing for PS4 and Xbox on Tuesday. The PC release is going to be on the Seventh.”

She almost drops the bin as she looks back up at him. “Don’t play with me Winchester. I’ve been waiting for this game since they announced it’s release back in May!”

“Since when were you into first person shooter games?” Jo honestly sounds confused, and it’s for a good reason. Charlie is usually into games like World of Warcraft, Dragon Age, Skyrim, and the like. She doesn’t normally go for a tactical shooter game like Rainbow Six Siege.

Charlie shrugs and starts carrying the bin towards the door into the house. “I’ll take any excuse to kick some ass at a video game.”

Dean coughs a laugh so hard that it actually hurts his chest. He knows exactly who’s _ass_ she’s talking about. There are certain kind of gamer attracted to specific kinds of games and Charlie really does love whooping them at it. She’ll probably do single player until she’s got the controls down, and then switch to multiplayer to school some butt hurt gamer kids. He used to be one of those gamer jerks before she logged into his favourite game and taught him a humiliating lesson.

He gets the next bin down and it’s ready and waiting for her when she comes back. There’s not a whole lot of them, but Charlie is definitely going to be making a few trips into the house. It’s unfortunate, given that they’re all the kind of people who try to make as few trips as possible, but they don’t really have much of a choice. They have to get this stuff down _today_. This isn’t a one person job and aside from Monday, this is the only day they all have off.

It’s pretty rare for all three of them to have a day off together and Dean’s happy to have their help to take this all down. The weather report is claiming that next week they’re going to get their first dusting of snow, so that’s why this stuff is coming down. All of these bins are full of their _Christmas decorations_ and Dean wants to make sure everything up is before the snow hits. It’ll just be so much easier than doing it with snow, no matter how little it is.

After the third bin, Jo groans loudly. “Why do you have so many _boxes_?”

“Calm down.” Dean flaps a hand at her and starts reaching for the next bin. “There’s only, like, five boxes and a tree. Half of this is indoor stuff anyways.”

Jo sighs loudly and rolls her eyes as she passes the bin off to Charlie again. Dean leans over to flick the top of her head. “Don’t give me that look. There’s two bins for outside, and three for inside. And one of those is just full of boxes for ornaments and shit for the tree.”

The next closest bin is actually the box for the tree before he has to move the ladder to get the final few bins and he drags that closer. “Now stop giving me sass and get ready for the tree.”

His reward is a bitch-face on par with the Sam’s. Dean ignores it with a smile and slides the box down to her. The box for the tree is about as tall as Jo is, and it’s definitely bigger than Charlie. It’s shorter than him, but the tree itself is definitely taller than Dean is. There are two pieces inside the box and the tree is pretty much as high as their ceiling. When Dean Winchester does a Christmas tree, he goes _big_. The holidays are a fun thing for him and he goes to town on all of them.

By some pre-Christmas miracle, Jo doesn’t complain for the last of the bins. She’s more than happy to carry the last one into the house and leave Dean to get down from the ladder on his own and put it away. He hangs the step ladder and the stool on hooks drilled into the studs of the garage wall. With those out of the way, Dean moves the Impala back into the garage and closes the door. By the time he makes it inside, Jo and Charlie have moved and stacked all the bins in the corner of the living room where the tree is going to go. It’s next to the entertainment center and in front of the main window.

Normally Dean would like to decorate the same day they take the bins down, but Sam insisted that he wanted to help out. On the outside that seems really sweet, but Dean knows that he’s just being selfish. Sam has been living it up like he’s got two families now. Double the thanksgiving, double dinners, double anything he can manage to get away with. It’s not like he wished their parents got divorced and he’d get two of everything, but there are definitely certain things he likes getting two of. Too bad for him that there’s not going to be a second Christmas morning here.

Since Dean, Charlie, and Jo all love Sam, and they have Monday off together too, they agreed to wait for him. Partially because none of them want to spend their whole day off taking boxes out of the garage and then setting them up. So, really, it’s kind of a God send that Sam’s not able to make it today because he’s a whole list of chores Mom has for him that he didn’t spread out during the week like he should have. That’s a rookie mistake and Sam should know better. Dean definitely taught him better than that.

That said, he’s more than happy to kick back and just chill with his roommates for the rest of the night. There’s not really anything else for him to do tonight anyways. His koala origami piece for tomorrow is already finished and done with a nicely patterned paper, and he’s got his shit for tomorrow’s shift laid out and ready in his bedroom for the morning. Dean is _prepared_ like a goddamn boy scout and that’s the way he likes it.

“So, what are the plans now?” Charlie stands with his hands on her hips as Jo and Dean start to get settled on the couch. “We’re not going to do anything else today?”

He shrugs and shares a look with Jo. “Well, I’ve already done my half hour on the treadmill, and a few sets on the weight bench.” They’ve got a little set up in their unfinished basement so they can work out when they’re feeling particularly guilty for eating more than half a pizza to themselves the night before. Which totally wasn’t what Dean did last night. Definitely not.

“And we just brought all that shit in.” Jo gestures at the bins. “What else do we have to do? I’ve earned my lazy day, dammit.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and turns to the entertainment unit. She opens one of the drawers and pulls out two very familiar objects that unfold while she holds them. “How about a little competition, my good roommates? A round robin of competition and the ultimate loser buys the nibbles for Monday.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head at her. “You want to challenge the king of Dance Dance Revolution?” He hasn’t lost a game in forever. He is the _king_ of rhythm and no one has ever managed to take his crown away from him.

“If the king wants to keep his crown, then he damn well better get his ass up here and _shake it_.” She flaps the mats out and lays them down in front of TV, not waiting for anyone’s confirmation.

Well, fine then. If she wants to be completely schooled at this, then Dean’s more than happy to oblige.

*

There’s sweat in his hair and an ache in his feet as he drops into the easy chair. Dean sighs happily and pulls the lever that makes the footrest pop out. He leans back in the chair, forcing it to stretch out so he gets a little more horizontal and a lot more comfortable. Now that his title has been officially protected yet again, he can relax and let Charlie and Jo dance it out for second place. It’ll be another few months or another release of a new DDR game before Charlie challenges him again.

Now that he’s off his feet, Dean feels that it’s safe to check his phone. He’s not expecting anything, but he’s still a techno-baby and no matter how hard he tries not to, he’s just a little addicted to technology. To his surprise, and his delight, there’s a message from Cas. It’s not really _that_ surprising, because of how often they text now, but it’s always nice to see a text for a conversation that he didn’t start.

**_I’m done The Elenium and I am VERY happy that there is The Tamuli to look forward to. I always feel at a loss when I finish a good book._ **

God _damn_. Cas is already done the book? Dean hasn’t even managed to get his hands on the first book of _The Tamuli_ yet! There is no way in hell he’s going to start the sequel series _after_ Cas. That’s just wrong. _He_ was the one who introduced Cas to the whole series in the first place. And he’ll be damned if he’s going to be out read by him.

“Charlie!” Dean lowers his phone and glares at her back while she hops around on the mat. “Are you done with _Domes of Fire_ yet or what? I wanna start reading it already.”

She doesn’t even give him the courtesy of looking over her shoulder to answer him. “It’s been sitting on the kitchen island for, like, two days now. Don’t blame me because you didn’t get the message that it was up for grabs.”

“I thought you just forgot it there!” He drops his head back and groans. He feels so stupid now for not just taking it when it was there for a whole day.

“Not my fault, Winchester.” Charlie jumps in a perfectly timed circle, hitting four pairs in a row. For the brief moment that she’s facing him, she sticks her tongue out and flips him off.

He mumbles a bunch of swears under his breath as he starts typing a response to Cas. **_Just got my hands on Domes of Fire. Gonna get started on that tonight after whooping my roomies at video games._**

He watches the girls start on dance number two of three for about half the song before his phone vibrates in his hand again. Cas is getting faster at answering too, and that’s great. **_Are we going to have a reading race to see who finishes Domes of Fire first? I feel I should point out that I have the compendium and far more free time than you._** A second message buzzes in right after the first. **_You’ll likely lose if you challenge me at this._**

Okay, so that sounds kind of awesome. A reading challenge with Cas would probably be all sorts of fun. But there’s the obvious fact that Dean would probably lose and he would lose _hard_. He’d rather not lose that much face in front of Cas. After all, he’s trying to make himself look _good_ in his eyes.

 ** _No, man. I’m not gonna challenge a champion reader like you. I pace myself and I’ve got too much shit to do._** Dean laughs quietly to himself so he doesn’t disrupt the girls and hits send.

His laugh is a little louder when Cas responds with the smuggest looking emojis his phone probably has. **_And what kind of ‘shit’ do you have to do?_**

 ** _Oh, TONS_**. Dean is, after all, a very busy boy. That’s why he’s spending his Friday night at home with his roommates, mixing it up with some good ol’ Dance Dance Revolution. When they’re done with DDR, they might dig out the guitars and play some classic Guitar Hero. **_I work tomorrow, Sunday is a me day with lots of sleep, and Monday we’re going to decorate the house. It’s gonna be fun!_**

And, like some kind of terrible habit of his, a new idea spawns in the depth of his brain. It’s crawls into the light like the creature from the black lagoon and there’s no ignoring it once he’s thought of it. Dean bites his lip and glances from his phone to the girls and back again a few times. Is this really a good idea? Or is it bad and he’s probably just going to end up regretting it because it’s way too soon to ask something like this of him?

Better check with Charlie and Jo first. “Hey, would you two be cool if I invited Cas to come help us decorate on Monday?”

“More hands means less work.” Jo gives him a thumbs up over her shoulder, feet stomping up a storm on the dance pad. “I’m down for it.”

Charlie actually takes the point hit to look away from the TV and give Dean a smirk to end all smirks. He flips her off for it and she returns the favour, which he assumes means that’s her approval for the idea. Okay, good. If neither of them thinks it’s stupid, then it can’t be _that_ bad, can it? Okay, okay. Dean’s going to do it. He’s going to invite Cas over and see where that gets him.

It takes him five whole attempts at typing out the message before he gets the wording right. Even then he’s not entirely happy with it, but he hits send anyways because that’s as good as it’s going to get. **_If you’re free before work on Monday, do you wanna come help? It’s going to be a blast with the roomies and Sam._** He doesn’t wait for an answer before he quickly types up another message to help convince Cas along in case the first message puts him on the fence. **_We play Christmas music, sing bad karaoke to it, dance just as badly, and eat some delicious appetizers. It’s a really good time, I promise!_**

There. They’re sent and now all he can do is sit here and wait. And wait. And _wait_. He’s still waiting by the time Charlie and Jo reach the end of the third song. They high-five the exact moment they both make the final stomp. The game tabulates their grades and they both have A’s – except Charlie is a few hundred points more than Jo. Dean can’t actually see the results with them in the way, but the telltale ‘ _woo-hoo!_ ’ and ‘ _son-of-a-bitch!_ ’ give him his answers.

He nearly drops his phone when it finally buzzes again. Dean can’t get the text message open fast enough. **_Thank you for the invitation, Dean, but I must decline._** His heart sinks and he tilts his head back to pout at the ceiling until another message buzzes in. **_I enjoy when you visit me at the café, but I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with hanging out in a different setting yet._**

Shit. He shouldn’t have sent those message in the first place. This is all Charlie and Jo’s fault. What in the world made them think that this was a good idea? Obviously it was _way_ too early to try and ask Cas over. They’ve only seen each other at the café and five minutes at the fire station. Those are the places that they _work_. Dean’s an _idiot_ for thinking he could skip straight from their _workplaces_ to his goddamn _house_. That’s just – that’s a fucking massive jump. And he was just so _stupid_.

No matter how much progress he _thought_ he was making with Cas, it looks like he was wrong. They’re still only _kinda_ friends, but not really. Cas isn’t comfortable with the idea of hanging out with him outside the café. Doesn’t that mean that Cas doesn’t actually like him, then? Fuck, now Dean is just making himself sad and he doesn’t want to do that. Today was so enjoyable and he was really looking forward to leaving Cas that koala origami tomorrow. Now he’s sorta lost his feel for that.

But he can’t put any of that into a text. The last thing he wants to do is make Cas feel bad for saying that. It probably wasn’t easy on him either. Dean takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow hiss before he starts typing a reply message – four times. **_I understand. Maybe next time?_** And fuck knows when that’ll be. How often do they do something where they _decorate_? It’s a long way off until the next major holiday decorating, that’s for sure.

The smiley face he gets back right away is not only surprising, but a little calming, actually. Cas sends actual words in a separate message from the emoji. **_Yes, maybe next time. It’s been a very long time since I had a friend and I need to take this slowly. I’m sorry if this upsets you._**

Wait. Wait. _Wait_. Dean tilts his head and frowns at his phone. That can’t be right. There’s no way someone as cool as Cas hasn’t had a friend in a while. Well, how long have he and Gabe been living in town? It hasn’t been too long, right? But Cas _must_ have had a friend wherever he lived before they moved here. He just can’t wrap his brain around this. Dean _really_ enjoys spending time with Cas. They have good conversations and he’s funny, smart, got some awesome hobbies, and kinda awkward in that nerdy but cute way. He’s just fantastic and Dean can’t think of a single thing not to like about him.

 ** _It’s cool, Cas .Everyone has their own pace and their comfort zones._** Dean ends the message with a smiley face emoji before getting started on a second one. **_I’d be down for hanging around outside of the café whenever you’re comfortable with it too._**

He gets a string of smiley faces and thumbs up as a response. See? Dorky awkwardness at its finest. **_Thank you, Dean. I appreciate that._** Text number two makes him feel a little less bad, but there’s still a heavy ball of disappointment resting behind his sternum.

“Uh oh.” Charlie slings an arm across the top of Dean’s recliner and leans into its side. She ruffles his hair and Dean makes sure to hit the home button on his phone to hide his conversation with Cas. “It looks like someone’s got a case of the frownies! Why’s our DDR king looking so sad?”

Jo drops onto the couch with a pout for losing, but she’s watching the both of them. “Something happen with your text buddy there?”

“It’s nothing.” Dean shrugs and puts his phone away. “Who’s hungry for pizza?”

They both light up at that, but then Charlie punches him in the shoulder. “Don’t tease. We don’t have any pizzas in the freezer and I know for a fact you don’t have enough money left in your restaurant budget to order in anything.”

“And we’re not covering your half of the bill again.” Jo points out, pointing at Dean with her _i-mean-business_ finger. “You still haven’t paid me back for that McDonald’s run last month.

Dean rolls his eyes and swings his legs down to close the footrest into the chair again. “Put it on my tab. We’ve got the list on the fridge for a reason. I’ll settle my debts on payday.”

“We’re getting off topic here.” Charlie claps her hands to get their attention again. “I was just promised pizza and I want to know how _you_ –” She pokes Dean hard in the chest as he stands up. “– are going to make good on giving me pizza.”

He rubs the spot she poked because she’s got the boniest little fingers ever and they _hurt_. “For your information, I’m going to _make_ it.”

Jo immediately perks up, so much so that she actually gets up off the couch. She knows what it means when they do homemade pizza. “We’re each going to get our own, right?”

“Absolutely.” Dean heads over to the kitchen and picks up a covered bowl he’s had sitting in the corner of the counter. “Are you saying neither of you actually peeked at this all day? I made the dough this morning while you ladies were getting your beauty sleep.” There’s enough dough to make three full sized pizzas. And he’s talking the _rectangular_ baking pans that they normally use for cookies.

Both of them follow him into the kitchen, but Charlie is the one who checks the fridge. “What kind of stuff do we have to put on them?”

“Everything.” He’s been planning this for a week, at least. They’re really bad at paying attention to things if neither of them noticed the bag of pepperoni slices, the various different meats, the can of pineapple pieces, or even the can of pizza sauce that he bought on the last grocery run. He wasn’t even remotely subtle about it, so this is kind of a little bit hilarious for him.

Charlie impulsively hugs him from behind while he flours the corner of the kitchen counter so he can work the dough there. “You’re the _best_ , Dean.”

“And _that_ is why I’m the king.” He puffs up and flashes them both a grin. “Now, someone get started on grating that cheese. Get out what you want on your pizzas and slice up the meat. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“Do you want me to heat the oven up right now?”

“Nah, I’ll start it when I’m adding the toppings.” Dean hip checks Charlie out of the way so he can get the rolling pin from one of the drawers. And he needs his apron too, because he already has flour on his shirt and that was just dumb on his part. “You two go and pick out a movie. Something good to watch when the pizzas are done.”

They both salute him with a laugh. Charlie heads back into the living room to check out their DVD collection and what might be available on Netflix. Jo starts poking around in the fridge to get the veggies and other toppings that she wants on her pizza. Dean isn’t expecting music to start playing, but he thanks Charlie for it anyway. The classic rock has him swinging his hips while he separates the dough and starts rolling one of the pieces out.

He’s still pretty disappointed that Cas turned down his invitation, but he’s going to do his best to ignore that feeling. Dean has plenty of fun hanging out with his roommates and they’re going to make a _great_ distraction tonight. The worst part is, though, that he can’t be _too_ sad for himself. It really was too early in their friendship to ask Cas over like that. Sure, it sucks that he thought they were moving a lot faster than they really were, but that’s okay. It really is. He’s just going to keep working at it until he gets to where he wants to go with Cas.

And even if he doesn’t, then at least he’ll have a new friend out of this.

_** ** _

**_Friday – November 27 th, 2015_ **

Gabriel isn’t exactly sleeping, but there are certainly some soft snores coming from his side of the couch. Even Nike is sleeping gently in Castiel’s lap, despite how it’s barely past seven in the evening. Nike has an excuse because she’s a cat and it’s still part of her sleeping time. She’ll be more awake later. Gabriel, on the other hand, is just lazy. He didn’t even get up particularly early this morning. Castiel isn’t going to say anything about it because he knows how hard his brother works and he’s certainly entitled to use his day off as he sees fit.

The TV is playing in the background, but Castiel pays it no mind. At the moment he’s doing his best not to _freak out_ and disturb the other people in the room. He’s staring at his phone and the last message that he sent to Dean. There hasn’t been a response since, and he’s happy for it because the topic was less than desirable. But he’s also unhappy that Dean hasn’t responded and Castiel can’t stop himself from wondering if he’s upset because his invitation was rejected. It’s possible, but he honestly can’t tell.

Castiel had taken _forever_ to think of a nice way to let Dean. Even then, his hands had been shaking and it felt like the room was ten sizes too small. The idea of going to someone’s home – to some place where he would be _alone_ with people he barely knows – it scares him. He hasn’t been to _anyone’s_ home since they moved here. Even Balthazar, whom he’s known the longest, has never invited him over. Gabriel has been there, but he doesn’t nearly have the same kinds of hang ups as Castiel does.

A walk through a park or down a sidewalk is fine for him. Even going into a store or restaurant is fine because there are _always_ other people around too. No one can abduct him or attack him out in the open without causing a scene. That was something his parents hadn’t thought about. They lived in a house surrounded by trees that was _at least_ a half hour drive from town. It was secluded and they thought that was a good thing since it gave Castiel and his father the chance to go outside without having to wear their heavy overcoats. Obviously that didn’t turn out too well.

He just – he _can’t_ go to Dean’ house. Not yet, at least. There’s a little voice whispering paranoid propaganda in the back of his mind, telling him that someone in that home would be out to get him. It would likely be one of the roommates. Castiel trusts that Dean wouldn’t do anything to hurt him – more or less, and Sam was thoroughly vetted by Gabriel before he was hired. That leaves the two roommates; Charlie and Jo. Neither of which Castiel really knows. Just because they’re firefighters doesn’t mean that he can _trust_ them.

If he was to ‘ _hang out_ ’ with Dean, he needs it to be in a location where he feels safe. It needs to be somewhere that he knows. At this point, Castiel doesn’t know anything about Dean’s home. He’s some areas of it from random pictures that Dean has sent him, but he’s never been there. For one, he doesn’t even know what area of the city it’s in. And how big is it? How close are the neighbours? Are there any pets that Dean has that he hasn’t mentioned up to this point? Fences between the properties? Is it on the main road or farther back and out of view?

There are too many variables and Castiel doesn’t like any of them. He needs to learn so much more about what to expect before he would be comfortable going there. And there would either need to be less people, or he would need to get to know Charlie and Jo before he could possibly go there on his own. Maybe he could do this on Monday if Gabriel was coming, but he wouldn’t want to. He sees much more of Sam than Castiel does, and it would most likely be too weird for him. Not to mention that he’s not friends with Dean or his roommates. It would be more awkward for him than it would be for Castiel, since he wasn’t actually invited.

As if thinking about him has summoned him, Gabriel stirs and throws a hand out to slap him in the shoulder. “Could you stop that?”

“I’m not doing anything.” Castiel hasn’t moved in over an hour, and that’s rather impressive considering that he’s had two full cups of coffee without going to the bathroom yet.

Gabriel groans and arches his back a bit to stretch. “Don’t try and talk yourself out of it, Cassie. My eyes are closed and I can literally _feel_ your waves of angst. So, stop it already.”

He huffs quietly to himself and turns the screen off on his phone. His steely silence must say something, because Gabriel open his eyes and rolls his head to the side. “Alright. Spill. What is it?”

“Nothing.” Castiel shakes his head and balances his phone on the armrest. “Nothing is wrong. Why would you assume that something is _wrong_?”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. Gabriel sits up a little straighter and looks Castiel over with a keen eye. He does it several times before leaning closer. “Out with it. What did Ken do?”

“Ken?” He doesn’t know anyone named Ken.

“Your Ken doll of a boyfriend.”

Now that is uncalled for and Castiel doesn’t hesitate to reach over and punch Gabriel in the thigh. It’s not hard, but it jostles Nike enough that she lifts her head with a displeased murmur. He drops his hand to pet her until she lowers her head again to tuck her nose under her tail. Her coat is coming in nicely and she is, quite possibly, the softest thing that Castiel has ever touched. A purr starts to rumble under his hands and he does his best to focus on that instead of on the bundle of nerves vibrating heavily at the top of his stomach.

“Okay, okay. I deserved that.” Gabriel hisses and rubs his leg. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”

Castiel takes a deep breath and lifts his head to stare blankly at the TV. There’s no point in trying to avoid this. Gabriel is just going to dig at it until he gets his answer. Either that or he’s going to have to lock himself in his bedroom. He could always try to hold out until sunrise where he could take _the sleep_. It’s impossible to bother him during that time period.

He takes another deep breath and releases it through his nose. “Dean invited me to help decorate his house on Monday with his roommates and Sam.”

“Oh, that sounds nice!” Gabriel sits up straighter, a smile starting to spread. “You’ll have fun with –”

“I’m not going.”

Like a balloon, he deflates with a sigh. “Why not?”

“I can’t do it.” He shakes his head and looks down at Nike, wiggling a finger under her head to scratch at the hinge of her jaw. “I just – I’m not – I _can’t_.”

“Okay, let me try that again.” Gabriel clears his throat and puts a hand on Castiel’s knee. “Why do you feel like you can’t go to Dean’s house?”

Castiel shrugs and brushes his hand away. “I just can’t. Okay? We’ll just leave it at that.”

“Oh my God.” With a groan, Gabriel slumps back into the couch. “You’re bailing on this because you’re scared of his house, aren’t you? I bet that’s it.”

It’s only slightly annoying that he hit the nail on the head with his first guess. Castiel very pointedly doesn’t look at him and keeps petting Nike. At this point she has become a very soft stress toy and he’s all the more thankful that he brought her home when he did. It’s one of the smartest things that he’s ever done. He’s been hoping that making friends with Dean would turn out the same, but now he’s not so sure – not for anything that Dean’s done. But rather, how little Castiel has thought about the progression of their friendship.

He was a fool for never considering the idea that one day Dean would want to go out and do things with him. That’s what happens in any normal friendship and that’s exactly what Castiel wants: a _normal_ friendship. People who enjoy spending time together usually go out to places instead of just hanging out at their places of work. They can’t have a normal friendship if he’s going to be _weird_ about it. And it _is_ weird that he and Dean are friends and yet they’ve only ever spent time together here at the café. Castiel is really going to have to work at this if he wants them to continue being friends.

Dear Lord, what if Dean starts to think that Castiel is his _weird_ friend? Worse yet, what if he doesn’t want to be his friend anymore because of this? It’s possible that Dean might think Castiel doesn’t like him. He _does_ like him, though. The more they talk, the more interested he gets in learning more about Dean. This is just getting all messed up because Castiel is a mess; a nervous and more than just a little bit paranoid mess.

“Come on, Cassie.” Gabriel nudges him with his elbow. “You’re a big boy. You can handle something simple like a get together for Christmas decorating. That can’t even be called a _party_. And you did just fine with the one we had here for Halloween.”

He huffs and elbows him back. “I was able to handle it _here_ because I was in a comfortable and familiar setting. There was a counter between me and everyone else. I felt _safe_ when the party was held _here_.”

“Castiel. Dear baby brother. You _need_ to get out of the house.” Gabriel shakes his head and flops back against the armrest. “And I mean _past_ the café downstairs.”

Now that’s just insulting. “I go for walks and sometimes I even go shopping. I get out _plenty_.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” He turns a frown on Castiel akin to the kind he used to see when they used to live in Florida. Back when Gabriel was raising him in place of their parents. “You know damn well exactly what I meant.”

Regardless, he’s acting like a dog with a bone and Castiel is not enjoying it. “Why are you so insistent about this?” Gabriel has been advocating for him to spend more time out and about with the rest of the populace for an absurdly long time.

“Because I love you and I think thirteen years is more than enough time for you to spend locked inside away from the rest of the world.” He sighs loudly, clearly more frustrated with this than he originally seems to be.

Castiel rolls his eyes, ending the roll with a flat stare directly at him. “Have you forgotten the two years we spent road tripping across the country?”

“That was with _me_.” Gabriel’s voice is just as flat as his own stare.

“I fail to see the difference.”

With a loud groan, Gabriel runs his hands over his face. “Try _living_ for a change, Cassie.”

“I’m perfectly _happy_.” Castiel growls, baring his fangs slightly. “And I wish you would stop pushing your ideologies on me just because I don’t agree with them.”

That seems to be Gabriel’s breaking point. He sighs loudly and gets to his feet. “Okay, fine. Whatever.” He knocks Castiel in the knee before moving around the coffee table. “But how about this. If –”

No. He doesn’t want to hear anything. “I don’t know Dean’s roommates.” Castiel shakes his head and returns to petting Nike. “What if I can’t trust them? And I hardly know Sam. Wouldn’t it be considered weird for him to hang out with his _boss_ while decorating for Christmas?”

“Sam is the _last_ one you have to worry about.” Gabriel shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. “I checked him out myself. He’s an okay kid and I doubt he’d care if you were there. Besides, you rarely see him. I bet to him you’re just the weird guy who works the graveyard shift.”

Castiel’s frown is starting to make his face hurt. “It would be awkward for a stranger to encroach on such an intimate family affair like decorating one’s home.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” He shrugs and starts pacing back and forth on the other side of the table.

“It _would_.” And nothing is going to change his mind on this. “I would be nervous the whole time, thinking that one of Dean’s roommates might have connections to a Witch, or they might recognize what I am. One of his roommates is a _Phoenix_ , Gabriel. They’re very perceptive. My disposition could ruin the night for everyone.”

Gabriel throws his hands in the hair and stomps his phone. “Oh my _God_ , Cassie. You’re overthinking this _way_ too much. Just go to the damn decorating thing and take a step out of your frikken comfort zone for once in your life. Okay?”

Now Gabriel is just being downright insulting. Castiel _has_ been outside of his comfort zone for quite a while now. He’s got a job that has him dealing with dozens of people he doesn’t know daily. He has a _friend_ now, and a number of employees who work under him. That’s more than he can say for where he was this time last year. In either case, this isn’t changing his point of view on the matter.

“No.” He shakes his head and turns his attention back to Nike. Her head is up now and she’s watching Gabriel pace. “I don’t want to ruin their good time.”

“Dean wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t want you there.” Gabriel waves a hand when Castiel opens his mouth to speak. “Don’t. Just shut up and let me say this one thing before I leave because you’re starting to irritate me with all this.” Castiel lifts his head with a glare, but it gets shrugged off. “I’m going to say one thing and one thing only. If Dean flirted with you any harder, then _I_ might fall for him. Got it?”

He must be joking. “Dean doesn’t flirt with me.”

“Those glasses of yours are fake as hell, so I know for a _fact_ that you’re not _this_ blind.”

“Dean. Does. _Not_. Flirt. With. Me.” Castiel might not pick up on all social behaviours, but he’s fairly certain that he would know if someone was flirting with him. He was uncomfortably aware of when Nick was flirting with him. And there are the various men and women who come to the café. Some leave their numbers on the cups when they return them to the counter, some ask him outright. He can tell and he is _positive_ that Dean isn’t flirting with him.

Gabriel snorts a hard laugh that startles Nike slightly. “No, Cassie, no. He absolutely does flirt with you. Like, _all_ the time.”

Castiel shakes his head. “He’s my _friend_.”

“People who are friends can still flirt together, Cassie.” He sighs and turns on his heel, heading for the hallway. “I’m leaving. But you _know_ I’m right.”

“No. You’re _wrong_.” His glare follows Gabriel out of the room. Castiel expects to hear his bedroom door, or maybe the bathroom, or possibly even the door to the fridge. What he ends up hearing is the door to their apartment and the subsequent sound of Gabriel going down the metal staircase into the café.

Sighing, he slumps deeper into the couch. Nike takes the opportunity to relocate herself. She stands up and stretches, arching her back before moving to curl up on his chest. Castiel brings his hand up to start scratching underneath her chin. Another purr starts to rumble, and he can feel it offset against the beat of his own heart.

He refuses to believe that Dean has been flirting with him, but there are certain things about Gabriel’s argument that he has to admit were closer to the truth that he would like. Is Castiel really being too neurotic about this? Should he just suck it up and go? Of course he wants to know more about Dean for his own personal curiosity. The things he wants to know are things he could only get from direct questions or observing Dean in his own home.

Things like… Is Dean messy or a neat freak? How many books does he own and how are they organized? Considering his affinity for cooking, how well stocked is Dean’s kitchen? What kind of food does he cook? Would he cook for Castiel if he visited? He’s quite the movie buff and often mentions playing video games with his roommates. How many of each does he have in his living room? How are they displayed? What about his computer? Is it a PC, a Mac, or does he own a laptop instead?

His mind is just full of utterly inane questions that he doesn’t _need_ to know, and yet he wants to. At least he knows enough not to barrage Dean with them. That would be too weird, wouldn’t it? Castiel has no need to know any of these things. Sure, they tell him bits and pieces of Dean’s personality and his life that he doesn’t know yet, but they’re obscure and pointless to anyone else. Wouldn’t it?

Castiel would much rather focus on those kinds of questions than think about his argument with Gabriel. He spends an unknown amount of time staring blankly at the TV while composing a list of them in his head. By the time he reaches the end of it, he’s still at an impasse. He’s no closer to deciding if he’s going to rescind his rejection, or stick to it and wait for another invitation at a later date. But what if no day ever comes where he’ll be comfortable enough to hang out with Dean beyond the safety of the café? That’s a very likely possibility and that fact alone terrifies him.

Maybe what he needs is to spend more time with Dean in situations where he’s comfortable? Castiel could arrange for Dean to come visit here more often. He could just need more time to fully adjust to spending time together with him. If he’s more comfortable with Dean, that might carry over to his house too and Castiel will be able to go over there without issue. Though _Dean_ isn’t the thing that’s keeping him from accepting the invitation. It’s the _other people_ and a strange environment that he’s having difficulty coming to terms with.

Or perhaps Castiel should make the effort to spend some more time with Sam. That way, there will be _two_ people he knows at any event hosted at Dean’s home. Knowing fifty percent of the attendees might be even to offset his anxiety over spending time there. Unfortunately, there just isn’t enough time between now and Monday for him to do that. It’s possible for the future – though it depends entirely upon whether or not Dean does many things with his roommates where he might also invite Castiel.

By some horrible twist of fate, he’s _still_ dwelling on the topic when Gabriel finally returns. It hasn’t been nearly as long as it feels, but Castiel is certain that it’s been at least an hour. With a word, Gabriel flops on the couch in his previous spot and scoops up the TV remote. He turns up the volume and steadfastly stares at the screen. They pointedly ignore each other for an absurdly long time. But, at least, Gabriel’s return is enough to turn Castiel’s thoughts from his pensive contemplation over his situation with Dean.

For a while, he’s able to pay some form of attention to the show playing on the TV. A dragon roars across the screen and Castiel wonders when the episode of _Game of Thrones_ started. If he had been paying attention, he might have been able to enjoy it. He’s not _that_ into the show, but he does enjoy catching it from time to time – although he much prefers the books. Castiel would like to watch the rest of the episode, but nature calls for him soon enough.

Nike objects as Castiel lifts her from his lap and puts her on the cushion next to him. She glares at him as he gets up and heads to the bathroom. Since she doesn’t follow him, she must be unhappy with him for moving her. Normally he can’t go anywhere in the apartment without her shadowing him. When he returns to the couch, Nike is curled up in his spot and Gabriel is gone. His door was closed when Castiel passed it in the hallway, but he hadn’t given it any thought. He doesn’t give it any more thought as he moves to take Gabriel’s former spot and she moves back to his lap.

Another purr starts to rumble against his thigh before he even starts petting her. Castiel smiles as her ears flick against his fingers when they brush over them. “Am I being stupid about this?”

There’s a soft murmur as she stretches and makes herself comfortable on her side but that’s all the answer he gets. He wasn’t expecting anything, to be honest, but it still feels nice to have said that to someone. Castiel gets three scratches to her belly before she starts slapping at his hand and attempting to nip at his fingers. Now this is the perfect distraction and he starts tickling her feet , chin, and belly until her tail starts to flap with irritation.

Eventually, Nike gets annoyed with him and gets up to leave. Castiel gets up to follow her, intent on getting a toy that they can play with together. Maybe the feather ball on a string? Or her jingle bell that he can roll across the floor for her to chase? Anything would work well now that she’s awake and mobile – unless she decides to curl up on his bed. He hasn’t gotten her a cat tree yet to place by the window, and he really should do that soon.

As he reaches his bedroom door, Nike already through it, Gabriel comes out of his bedroom. Castiel pauses to glance at him, and immediately he knows that something isn’t right. There’s an air of _guilt_ around Gabriel that he can practically smell.

Sure enough, Gabriel ducks his head with a smile like he’s trying to offset his shame. “I did a thing and you’re not going to like it.”

Castiel narrows his eyes and his stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel holds out a cell phone – _Castiel’s_ cell phone. The app open on the screen is the one he uses for text messaging. At the top of the app is _Dean W._ and a growl trembles at the base of Castiel’s throat when he sees that there are _several_ messages in a conversation that he never had. He can feel the tensing around his eyes that always happens when he gets this angry. A blur forms at the edges of his vision as it always does when he reaches these levels of _truly_ angry. Though he can’t see it himself, this tensing and blur manifests externally in other ways – something that Gabriel must see now, as he takes a quick step back.

“What. Did. You. _Do_?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

**_ _ **

_** ** _

**_Friday – November 29 th, 2015_ **

Gabriel actually flinches as Castiel snatches the phone from his hand. He shakes it out as if that caused him pain. If that is the case, then he doesn’t care in the slightest. Frankly, Gabriel deserved it. How dare he _steal_ Castiel’s phone – and to text _Dean_ no less! This deserves more than a sore hand. It deserves something more like a punch that knocks him off his feet, or worse. At the moment, Castiel is feeling a mighty urge to give his big brother a black eye.

He quickly scrolls up enough to see the beginning of the conversation where Gabriel obviously took over his phone. **_Hey fire-boy! Come decorate the café with Cassie!_**

Dear God Almighty, if Dean can’t tell that’s not him, then they’re not nearly as close friends as he thought they were. That text is nothing remotely similar to Castiel’s messaging style. Then again, they’re not really as close as the thinks they would be by now given that he can’t even bring himself to hang out at Dean’s house. As if that wasn’t enough for him to be dealing with at the moment, there’s also _this_.

 ** _Who is this?_** Oh. Well, there was some unnecessary worrying right there. Dean obviously knew that it wasn’t him right from the beginning.

 ** _Take a wild guess, pretty boy._** Castiel makes a mental note to tell Gabriel off later for all the ridiculous pet names that he’s giving Dean. He has a _name_ and these nicknames are not it.

Dean responded with a red faced frowning face. **_Stealing my info from your bro’s phone is a violation of privacy, Gabe. He’s gonna be mad at you when I tell him._** A swell of pride rises up under Castiel’s ribs. He chose well with picking his friend. Dean is standing up against Gabriel and it’s very admirable.

 ** _Got his whole phone, actually! Not just the info!_** Gabriel punctuated the message with an emoji sticking its tongue out. **_And it’s Gab*RIEL*. Never. Call. Me. *GABE*._**

 ** _To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation, Gab*RIEL*?_** Dean’s following message has matching tongue face on it.

As if stealing Castiel’s phone wasn’t bad enough, now Gabriel’s messages take a turning point and go straight to being rude. **_I literally said it in the first message. I thought you firefighters were supposed to be smart? Pay attention!_ ** He better hope that Dean doesn’t want to stop being friends with Castiel because his big brother is being an absolute _jerk_.

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t rise to the bait. **_I see that. But is CAS the one who wants me to come over and decorate or are you coming on to me?_**

Now _that_ irks something deep in Castiel’s gut and he’s not entirely sure why. He disregards it after reading Gabriel’s next message. **_Him. Promise!_**

 ** _Yeah, I don’t believe you. If Cas wants me to come over, he’d be asking me himself. How do I know you’re not lying, huh?_** Dean is clearly smarter than Gabriel gives him credit for. He’s not falling for everything and Castiel is all the more proud of him for it.

That’s the last message in the conversation and it was sent just a few moments before Gabriel came out of his bedroom. Nike curls around his ankles as Castiel takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. He turns the screen off and lifts his head to level a tight glare at his brother again. If he needs words to convey how absolutely _displeased_ he is right now, then Gabriel clearly doesn’t know him very well at all.

“In my defense, you needed someone to light a fire under your ass.” He holds his hands up in surrender and steps back into the safety of his own bedroom. “Since you wouldn’t do it, you left me no choice but to steal your phone from the couch when you were in the bathroom.”

Castiel keeps his voice low and edged with a growl. “You’ve crossed a line, Gabriel.”

“I know, and I’ll go to Church and confess my sins if you want me to.” He makes a cross over his chest before putting his palms together and looking skyward. Gabriel holds it for a moment before dropping his hands and fixing Castiel with a flat stare. “But I’m not going to regret it because _this_ is going to help you stop being a goddamn chicken shit.”

The seething anger bubbling beneath his skin burns hotter and his vision blurs even more. “You have _no right_ insulting me after you just _stole_ my _phone_.”

Gabriel shrugs and flaps his hand between them. “I know for a fact that you want to go.”

“No, you _don’t_ know that.” Castiel hisses and reaches out to grab the front of Gabriel’s shirt, but he dodges backwards, half closing his bedroom door in the same motion. That frustrates Castiel all the more and his upper lip curls with a snarl. “I _don’t_ want to go. If I wanted to go, I would have _accepted_ the invitation.” A little white lie right now feels more than acceptable given the situation.

“Stop lying, Castiel. I _know_ you.” He must start to feel a little brave again, because he steps forward and puffs up like he does when he’s taking on a _parental_ role. “You’re ready to step outta your comfort zone, but you’re finding every excuse not to because you’re _scared_.”

As if that wasn’t obvious. “Perhaps I’m scared because I _don’t_ want to step out of my comfort zones until _I’m_ ready for it.”

“Lie all you want, but we both know the truth.”

That’s as much as Castiel wants to hear. He growls again, this time loud enough to make Nike hiss in surprise. Without a word, Castiel turns on his heel and storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Aside from the boom of Gabriel’s bedroom door too, the only other sound is a string of distraught meows. Nike is still out in the hallway and Castiel turns back to let her in. As soon as she’s through, he slams the door again. It sends her skittering across the floor to hide under the bed.

A flash of regret for frightening her rises up, only to be swallowed by just how _angry_ he is. Castiel throws his phone at his bed and picks up a furious pace back and forth across the short length of his bedroom. How _dare_ Gabriel breach his privacy like this and then berate _him_ for not going to a party he’s not comfortable attending? It’s not like Gabriel could ever understand what Castiel is going through. _He’s_ not the one being hunted by Witches and living his life looking over his shoulder all the time. If Gabriel wanted to, he could easily walk away from all of this. All he would have to do is go out that door and not look back. Then he could have a normal life, which he’s probably always wanted anyways.

Or if Gabriel doesn’t have the guts to do it, then Castiel could be the one to leave. He could just pack up his things, put Nike in a carrier, and leave. While he might choose to walk everywhere, he _does_ have his driver’s license. Castiel could easily take the car, or buy a car, and leave on his own. If he wasn’t here, then Gabriel could run the café on his own without ever having to worry about being ready to run at the drop of a hat. The café is his dream and now that he’s finally got it, Castiel doesn’t want to be the sole reason that he might have to give it up.

Regardless of all that, none of it excuses the fact that Gabriel is ignoring all of Castiel’s feelings on this. He took matters into his own hands – quite literally in respect to the phone – and set into motion plans of his own. Whatever his reasons for it, they weren’t _right_ and Castiel is finding it very hard not to start hitting things out of frustration. If only his wings were out right now. He’d be fanning them in irritation and fluffing his feathers. It’s oddly soothing being able to do that.

Eventually, Nike finally pokes her nose out of hiding. She moves up onto the bed and meows at him until Castiel sits down next to her and she can sit in his lap. With a sigh, he flops back on the bed and reaches for his cell phone. He reads over the messages again as Nike starts kneading at his chest. The conversation leaves him with some very mixed feelings. While Castiel is certainly proud that his friend didn’t take any of Gabriel’s shit, he must admit that Gabriel’s alternative to Monday isn’t _too_ bad of an idea. In fact, he kind of likes it.

With a sigh, Castiel taps through the prompts to give Dean a call. The moment it picks up, he speaks. “I would like to apologize for my brother.”

Dean’s laugh rumbles through the line. “Aw, did he give himself up? I was looking forward to ratting him out. It was going to be so fun.”

“He had to.” Castiel rubs a hand over his eyes. “It was really only a matter of time before I noticed my phone was missing.”

“Are you going to need help hiding the body?” There’s no small amount of amusement in his voice. “I’ve seen enough movies and read enough books to have some creative ideas for that.”

Well, isn’t that sweet. “As do I.” He chuckles to himself softly as he rolls his eyes. “I’ll let him live for now. I don’t want to go through the trouble of having to hire a new baker, or start paying a current employee the day manager wages.”

“I didn’t know you were such a scrooge.”

Castiel huffs and shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m just frugal.”

“Alright, Scrooge. Alright.” Dean’s laugh this time sends a slight shiver down his spine. It’s just so nice to listen to. “I believe you.”

With a snort, Castiel tries his very best to keep a smile and his own laughter under control. Dean’s sense of humour is very effective at breaking the tension Gabriel caused. He’s been doing it since day one and it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s enough to give Castiel the courage to bring up the _other_ topic concerning Gabriel’s messages.

“Although he was entirely out of line with stealing my phone, I have to admit that Gabriel did come up with a decent alternative.” He drapes his arm over his eyes, as if blocking out the world might somehow make this easier to do. “I hadn’t considered it an option when you asked earlier and I really should have. My apologies for that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Dean hums. “I think I missed something here. What are you apologizing for and why?”

“I turned down your invitation without providing an alternative.”

“Alternative what?” Dean sounds all too confused and Castiel isn’t entirely sure where he lost him. “You dancing around something, Cas? I’m a simple man. Y’gotta spell it out for me.”

Castiel huffs and moves his arm so he can frown at the ceiling. “I have to disagree with you there. You’re a very smart man. I enjoy the conversations we have where we analyze books and movies. And I’ve seen you add up your bill mentally before I even have it in the register. Please don’t sell yourself short.”

After another few beats of silence, Dean clears his throat. “Careful, Cas. You’re making me blush.”

He knows what that looks like and it brings a smile to his face. Castiel rather likes it when Dean blushes. It’s cute. “My point is that instead of just declining your invitation, I should have offered an alternative – like Gabriel’s suggestion of having you come over to help decorate the café. If you’re interested, that is.” He can only hope Dean is. “I might not be comfortable going over to your home just yet, but I do enjoy your company when you’re here.”

There’s a smile in Dean’s voice when he speaks next. “I like that idea. Are you guys also decorating your apartment? I could help with that too.”

“We haven’t decorated our home in a long time.” Castiel absently starts scratching Nike behind an ear. “I’ll have to ask Gabriel, but if we do I think that we’d like to keep that between brothers this year.”

“Hey, that’s cool. I understand.” That delightful laugh rings again and it brings the smile back to Castiel’s lips. “I’d be happy to help you with the café, Cas.”

That’s better news than he cares to admit. “Thank you. I promise that I’ll pay you in pie.”

Dean sighs, but it’s nearly lost to his continued laughter. “Okay, I’m not going to say no to pie, but you do know that you don’t have to _pay_ me, right? I’ll be helping you out as a _friend_.”

Castiel can’t even put into words how good that makes him feel. A warm heat spreads through his belly at that. It’s likely a coincidence that Nike chooses to start purring right then as well. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I ask you for a favour.”

“Oh damn.” He groans, but it’s still wrapped in a laugh. “I’m going to get less pie now, aren’t I?”

“Unlikely, but entirely possible.”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that.”

The horror in Dean’s voice causes Castiel to laugh so sharply that Nike lifts her head with a disgruntled meow. He soothes her with some full body pets that end with scratching at the base of her tail. She puts her head down with a pleased purr. With her head out of the way, Castiel can now see the calendar on the wall. It’s not the best vantage point he’s ever had, but it does remind him that he should probably set a date for the decorating with Dean.

“Would you be free next weekend to help with the café? On Saturday?”

After a minute of dull tapping sounds, Dean returns to the call. “According to my schedule, I’ve got the day off. Saturday works for me. Got a time?”

“I’ll message you when I wake up and then you can come over whenever you’d like.”

“Sounds good to me.”

To his credit, Dean actually _does_ sound very happy with their planning. And Castiel can’t keep himself from sounding much the same. “I look forward to it. I’ll let you get back to hanging out with your roommates now.”

“Okay.” There’s an edge of disappointment to Dean’s voice and Castiel is almost ashamed to admit that it gives him a bit of a thrill to hear it. “Don’t hurt your brother too much, alright?”

“I’ll try not to.”

After they bid their goodbyes and hang up, Castiel drops his phone on the bed next to him and smiles up at the ceiling. This turned out much better than he thought it would. But his good feelings regarding the phone call fade quickly the longer he stares down the flat plaster of the ceiling. Arranging for the two of them to hang out at the café _again_ is no different than everything they’ve done before. If he wants to make _progress_ , shouldn’t he be suggesting something else? Okay, maybe not. The mere thought of that frightens him more than it should.

Fine then. What else can he do _after_ meeting at the café? What’s the next step that he can do? It takes Castiel a little while to figure that out, but once he does, he knows just what needs to be said. More than that, he knows what needs to be _done_. He takes up his cell phone again, much to Nike’s dismay as his texting position holds the phone in roughly the same space as her head. She murmurs unhappily but doesn’t move as he rests his hands on her head to start his message.

 ** _Perhaps the first time we hang out at your home, it could be just us?_** There. That should do it. If he gets used to Dean’s home when it’s just the both of them, then everything should be alright. Castiel _trust_ Dean. Everyone else? Not so much.

Once he gets a feel for Dean’s house, maybe he could make do with just some of Gabriel’s protective charms. There must be some kind of charm he can make sure the house and the street are safe. How would Dean feel if Castiel wanted to put Witch warding charms in his house? He has the crystal necklace to notify him if any powerful Witches come within a certain range of him, but it’s just a warning system. It doesn’t give him any real _protection_.

While waiting for Dean’s response, Castiel also considers whether or not he should have Gabriel to a check of the street. He could hide charms all over the place. They’ve certainly done that to the café, the apartment, and every residence they’ve had since Gabriel first took up magic. And that was shortly after their parents died, so it’s been roughly ten years of magical precautions. While they might always be paranoid about the unknown, the charms certainly make life easier.

Nike’s tail thumps his stomach unhappily when his phone vibrates with Dean’s message. **_You want to hang out alone together at my place?_**

Castiel raises his eyebrow. **_An accurate rephrasing._**

He rubs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. This is going to be perhaps more embarrassing than anything, but it’s certainly something that he should tell Dean. Probably. Okay, he can do this. Castiel forces himself to type it out and hit send. **_In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the first friend I’ve made in Montpelier._**

Dean responds with a quizzical emoji. **_Pretty sure you’ve mentioned that before._**

 ** _Well, it’s not just here in Montpelier…_** He sighs again and starts chewing on his bottom lip as he types and sends the next message. **_I’ve been more or less a recluse for the last decade or so. You’re the first friend I’ve had in a VERY long time._**

It takes a few long minutes before he gets an ‘o’ faced emoji in return. **_Oh._**

Was that too much? It might have been, but he can hold out hope that it wasn’t. **_Now you can see how I’m a bit rusty at being around people outside of a professional setting, yes?_**

 ** _Yes, yes I can._** Dean breaks his sentence with a smiley face emoji. **_It’s totally understandable, Cas. I’ll kick Jo and Charlie out the next time I ask you over. Promise!_**

Oh, thank God. What in the world did he do to have found such an understanding friend? **_Thank you._**

Dean sends a laughing emoji next. **_It’s cool, Cas! You’re more than welcome to use me as your stepping stone into being slightly less introverted._**

Since he’s using so many emoji’s, Castiel determines that it’s about time he starts sending more of his own. He elects to use a bumble bee and a big eyed smiling emoji. **_I really appreciate it. Thank you._**

In response, he gets three emojis all in one message; a heart sandwiched by two smiley faces. The lack of words denotes that this is likely the end of the conversation. That’s good with him and Castiel responds with a final smiley of his own. He feels _much_ more relaxed about this situation than he did a few minutes ago.

There is just one problem with what’s going to happen next. Castiel needs _decorations_ for Saturday. He’s going to have to find some point over the next week to get his hands on some. Either that or he sends Gabriel out to get them. In fact, he might just do that – if only as punishment for being the one who set his all in motion in the first place. Though Castiel can’t really be mad at him for that. He’s going to get to spend more time with Dean, which is just what he wanted, and it cleared the air between them regarding his rejection of the first invitation.

For one, Dean sounded rather happy with the return invitation for decorating the café. Dean being happy makes _him_ happy and he fights the urge to express his delight in some physical way. Now Castiel has Gabriel to thank for that. Of course he’s still absolutely furious with him for stealing his phone, but the ends do not justify the means at all. Although he does know one thing now: he is _not_ going to refuse another of Dean’s invitations again no matter what. Or at least he’s damn well going to try not to.

Nike makes a soft sound as she stands up and stretches. She leaves Castiel to go nose around in her food dishes and he agrees that it’s about time he got up too. His ire has cooled somewhat, though he’s still very unhappy with what Gabriel did. However, at the least, he should go speak with him just to clear the air between them as well. Castiel doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night working the café with this hanging over his head.

With a sigh, he rolls out of bed and drags his heels all the way to Gabriel’s bedroom door. Even though it’s early in the evening, his exhaustion is already starting to kick in. Tomorrow he needs to take _the sleep_ and tonight’s shift isn’t going to be very easy. Castiel knocks once with one hard rap, and crosses his arms. It doesn’t take Gabriel long to open it, but it only opens a crack and he peeks out, eyes bright and suspicious.

“Are you going to punch me?”

That’s entirely too tempting, but Castiel shakes his head. “I’m here to say that I want to decorate our apartment for Christmas this year.”

Gabriel opens the door a little more, lifting his head in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. This is our fresh start. This is our _home_.” Castiel drops his arms and resists the urge to get his wings released so he can stretch them. “It’s not like the temporary apartment we were living in last year. It’s not the two years bouncing around the country in an RV. And it’s _definitely_ not the ten years when we were in witness protection.”

“For the record, we could have decorated during that time too.” He leans his hip against the door frame tilts his head, smile going cocky.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “But we _didn’t_.” As if that wasn’t obvious enough. “I want to feel like a family again, even without our parents. That means doing everything we used to do when they were here.”

“I get it.” Gabriel nods in agreement and his smile softens. “We’re going to stop living in the past by bring back more of the past, huh? Alright, then. We’ll do it.”

“Good.” He graces Gabriel with a small smile before it falls back into a frown. “And just to be clear, if you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again – with Dean or any future friends I might back – I really _will_ punch you.”

Almost immediately Gabriel steps back and closes the door to a crack again. He’s been punched by Castiel only once in their lives and it was not a pleasant experience for him. It was the year before their parents died and Gabriel had to go to the hospital for a cracked rib. That was an event their parents used to teach Castiel about being careful of his strength and how he uses it.

Feeling smug in his brief sense of Creature superiority, Castiel turns back to return to his room. “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

“G’night, Cassie.”

_ _

**_Monday – November 30 th, 2015_ **

“Did you know there’s snow in the forecast?”

“Why do you think we’re doing this _now_?” The ladder wobbles slightly as Dean swings his leg over the top step to straddle it. He rolls his eyes as he waits for Sam to hold it steady while he gets settled with finding the step on the other side for his foot.

Sam hums and steps around to the side, picking up the slack of the Christmas lights. “Hm, let me think. Because it’s the only day that you three are all available? Oh no, wait! Is it because you absolutely _have_ to have everything up on December 1st, but you three won’t be available for it? How’s that?”

“First of all, those are the same damn thing.” He shoots Sam a dirty glare before going back to fitting the string of lights into the clips that the previous owners left up along the gutter. It’s saving him a hell of a lot of work, to be honest. “Secondly, just wait for that snow, Sammy. I’m gonna bury you in it.”

“Yeah, if you can _catch_ me.” With a laugh, Sam connects the end of two strings of lights so more will keep coming as Dean leans over to get at another clip. They’re going to have to move the ladder again in a moment.

Oh, is that how it’s going to be, hm? Dean stretches as far to the side as he can do safely for one more clip. “You might be a jogger, Sammy, but I’m a _sprinter_. I’ll catch you before my stamina runs out.”

“You’re not the only sprinter here, big brother.” Sam puts a hand on Dean’s side to hold him up too, just in case he over balances and falls off the top of the ladder. “I’ve got the endurance of a jogger. All I have to do is stay ahead of you and you’re never going to catch me.”

He’s got a point there, but Dean has an ace up his sleeve. “I know where your _sleep_.”

“Yeah, in your old bedroom. And it’s _great_.” He laughs again and steps out of the way so Dean can get off the ladder. “You’re never getting it back.”

With some effort, Dean resists the urge to swing his leg out just far enough to catch Sam in the side of the head as he comes down. He does give him a bit of a shove as he moves the ladder over and Sam brings the coil of lights with him. Thank God they’re almost done with this part of the roof. There’s just the second floor to do after that and Dean can do that without the need of a ladder, thank God. He’s never been fond of these things, even though he’s gotta go up one for his job sometimes. Rarely, but often enough that he doesn’t like it.

They’ve done the roof above the porch, and they’re just finishing off the bit above the garage right now. Dean refuses to do anything outside once the sun goes down, so they’re doing making the best use of the light they’ve got right now. Charlie and Jo are currently pushing candy canes into the ground on opposite sides of the driveway. There’s ten of them and they have to line them up properly as long as the cords will let them. While the candy canes look nice, it just means they’re all going to have to be really careful with where they shovel the snow during the winter.

They’ve already wrapped the poles of the porch and the top of the railing with a leafy looking garland that lights up. Jo brought that stuff over from her mom’s place and totally considers it her contribution to the decorations. Meanwhile, Charlie went out and bought some flat light up ornaments that she spent half an hour attaching to the front of the porch railing. With every new thing that goes up, Dean can just _feel_ their electric bill climbing. Thank God they split all the bills right down the middle every month, otherwise he might give himself a hernia worrying about having to pay for it all on his own.

One of the first things they put up when they cracked open the boxes of decorations was the wreath. It’s made out of different coloured bells, but Dean likes it because it doesn’t light up. The big ol’ _Merry Christmas_ and snowflake stickers they’re going to put up on the windows will go up when they head inside after the sun goes down – which is probably going to be in an hour or so. The newspaper said it would be going down shortly after four o’clock and they’re on the clock for it.

When Dean goes up the ladder again, Sam’s fear of repercussions for his sassy mouth seems to go out the window. He’s got no problem stepping up close and picking up on a different topic of conversation. “You go to the café a lot, right? Have you ever seen the blonde girl who works the mornings?”

“Girl?” Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Little bro, Jess is a _lady_.”

“Okay, so you know her then?”

“Seen her a few times, yeah.” And totally left a few origami with her whenever he’s had to drop it off before heading into one of his work shifts. “What about her?”

“Nothing, just wondering.” There’s an audible shrug in his voice, but one glance tells it all. Sam’s _blushing_ and Dean knows exactly what that means. That’s only confirmed by how Sam launches into talking about Jess and how she’s not just a pretty face because she’s _so_ knowledgeable about the café, baking, and all things apparently amazing.

Sweet baby Jesus, his little brother has a crush. That would be so cute if Dean wasn’t positive that she’s at least got a few years on _him_. Which means she’s too old for Sam. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sam was in his twenties too, but he’s basically still fresh out of high school. Of course Dean isn’t going to say anything about it. That might just break Sam’s poor little love struck heart. Miracles could happen though, and it doesn’t hurt for Sam to have a crush.

Thing is, Dean still likes Sam’s ex-girlfriend from high school; Sarah Blake. It still sucks the big one that her family moved away right after graduation. At least they still got to have prom together before she left. But neither one of them really wanted to do long distance, so they broke up after prom. Totally mutual, but Dean still misses Sarah. She was a cool kid and complemented Sam’s nerd ways quite nicely.

 “Alright, Sammy.” Dean cuts off the infatuated gushing. “We’ve only got one more section to do. Let’s move the ladder.”

Sam steps out of the way for him to get down. “I saw a Youtube video once of a guy straddling the top of the ladder and he just hopped and walked it into place.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” He shakes his head and shoots Sam a flat look. “I’m not going to break my neck trying something you saw on _Youtube_.” They move over to the last spot by the edge of the garage and Dean climbs up for the last fucking time, thank God. No, wait. “Oh, by the way, you’re going to have to spot me when I’m on the roof. If I fall, you better fucking catch me.”

“Mom says you shouldn’t go up there without a harness.”

Dean rolls his eyes and just barely stops himself from sighing. Of _course_ Sam would quote their parents rules at him about that. “This will be the only time I have to do it until my _brand new string of lights_ busts a bulb, okay? I’m going to be one of those guys who leaves their lights up all year long.”

The sound of disgust Sam makes is entirely uncalled for and Dean cuffs Sam upside the head as he reaches for the lights. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not, but _Dad_ definitely will.”

“Son of a bitch.” He’s got a hell of a point right there. Dean can already hear the scorn directed his way every time Dad comes over. Okay, fine. He’ll take them down when the snow is gone, but fuck if he’s going to worry about it. “This is _my_ house. I’m going up on my roof no matter what Mom says, and if you tattle on me, you’re going to be banned from here for a _year_.”

Sam pokes him in the thigh. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. My house; my rules.”

He sniffs loudly and that sure as hell better not mean that he’s about to try using _tears_ to get his way. “I’ll just ask Charlie and Jo to invite me then. If I’m _their_ guest, you can’t stop me.”

Bull-fucking-shit. “I rent the rooms to them. They have no say in what I do.”

“You’re not being fair!”

“Fight me, short stack.”

Their back and forth bickering follows Dean right up onto the roof. By then, Charlie and Jo are in his bedroom by the windows, both of them with a rope tied around their waists. Their ropes are tied around Dean and Sam is the one standing on the ladder, still feeding Dean the lights while he puts them up. The makeshift rope harness was just to shut Sam up so he wouldn’t rat on him to their parents. It didn’t help that Charlie and Jo both ganged up on Dean too about the whole harness thing. Whatever. He did it and now no one can bitch at him about safety anymore.

Honestly, Dean doesn’t get what the big deal is. As a firefighter, he’s been on plenty of roofs before. Hell, he’s been in all sorts of places he shouldn’t be. Dean’s got good footing up here and it’s only a one story drop from the roof to the ground. At worst, he’d land funny and break a bone. At best, some light bruising. Maybe. He’s fallen from higher heights during training. He knows how to land properly, how to roll into a fall and all that. Everyone in his life needs to cool their jets every once in a while.

By the time Dean gets off the roof, by going through his window since apparently that’s the _safest_ option, the sun is on its way down. And that means it’s clean up time. While the others get the empty bins of outdoor stuff together, Dean pulls the Impala out of the garage so they can put those bins back up in the garage. Once the car is back in the garage, everyone gathers at the edge of the driveway. Dean closes the garage door and plugs everything in. The lights on the roof and the candy canes plug into an outlet by the garage door, but everything on the porch uses a different outlet over there. He makes sure not to look at the house until he’s at the bottom of the driveway too.

“It looks good, Dean.” Charlie pats him on the back as he puts an arm around her shoulder. “We did some good work today.”

“Damn right we did.” He pulls Sam into a side hug too and Charlie drags Jo into things on her other side. “Good job, everyone. I think we deserve some hot chocolate and pigs in blankets.”

Sam snorts a laugh and shoves away. “Really? That’s what you’re going to feed us?”

“I’ve got a variety of meats and cheeses for you tonight, Sammy.” Dean flashes him a grin as he gets his phone out. “If you want veggies and dips, then you better ask Jo nicely if you can have some of hers. God knows I don’t buy that shit.”

Before everyone can go get their big heads up in his shot, Dean takes a quick picture of the house. Then another with Sam, Jo, and Charlie standing in front of the garage. There’s just enough sunlight left in the sky that they’re not _entirely_ shadows in his pictures. Pretty close though. He turns and takes a selfie with the lights in the background while the others start heading inside. Satisfied, Dean posts everything to Facebook on his way back up the driveway. His first picture and the selfie get sent to Cas too, because they’re not Facebook friends and he’s pretty sure that Cas doesn’t even have one.

**_Looks pretty good, huh?_ **

The sun’s hardly set so Cas probably hasn’t woken up yet, but Dean doesn’t care. He hit send anyways. Cas will answer when he’s awake. Either way, the house looks awesome and now it’s time for some good ol’ personal time with some of his favourite people in the world. Sam and Jo are already in the process of taking the tree out of its box and Charlie is supervising with her hands on her hips like she’s queen of the world or something. He’d better put her to work.

Dean opens one of the bins and takes out the skirt that goes over the feet of the tree stand. “Here, you guys. Make sure to use this. Sammy, Jo – I’m putting you two in charge of putting the tree together and spreading those branches.” He slings an arm around Charlie and starts guiding her towards the kitchen. “And _you_ , little miss, are going to help me get the food in the oven.

She groans and makes a half hearted attempt at getting away. “How come _I_ have to help you?”

“Because you’re the shortest.”

Charlie puts more effort into getting away from him this time, but it’s only to turn around and punch him hard in the shoulder. “I’m an _inch_ taller than Jo! We measured that shit at the station.”

Wincing, he rubs his arm and fixes her with his winning-est smile. “Then how about it’s coz’ you’re my  favourite?” Next to Sam, of course. But that doesn’t need to be said.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Jo.”

“That was Sam, not me.” Her laugh follows Dean into the kitchen. “I know where I stand on the totem pole when compared to your brother and the best friend you grew up with.”

All very valid points, of course. And yet… She’s forgetting the most important thing. “You’d be higher up if you’d stop leaving your damn hair in the shower drain!”

That gets laughter from _everyone_ and Dean rolls his eyes at all of them. They’re all jackasses and he loves each and every one of them to death. He loves them all the more when music starts up in the living room. Either Sam or Jo decided to put the Christmas CD in, and whoever it was deserves a kiss for it. The bumping Christmas carols remixed to rock and roll beats are hands down the best thing to listen to when setting things up.

Regular carols wouldn’t get Dean’s hips moving while he un-boxes the pre-made appetizers while Charlie gets the baking trays out and sets the oven temperature. She’s wiggling along to the music too while they line the baking trays with tinfoil and start putting everything out. They grin and make finger guns at each other while they wait for the oven to heat up. Bumping music and good company is definitely a shared interest between them.

When the oven pings that it’s all heated up, Charlie grabs the trays to put them in. Dean sees that as the perfect opportunity to play photographer again. He grabs a picture of her putting them in the oven, and then makes his way back to the living room for the main event. Jo and Sam are _literally_ bumping booties while they sing along to _Rocking Around the Christmas Tree_. He definitely grabs a few pictures of that _and_ a video, because there’s really nothing better. The only way any of this could get better is if his parents were here too. But he’ll be helping them put things up at their place in a few days anyways.

Just because he can, Dean sends the video to Cas too. **_Sucks that you’re missing this! Maybe next year._**

Cas must be up, because he answers before Dean can even crack open the bin full of Christmas ornaments. **_Your house looks amazing and it looks like you’re having a lot of fun. I’m sorry I’m missing it, but a rain check for next year would be appreciated._**

Fuck yes, Cas can have _all_ the rainchecks! Dean almost laughs out loud at how happy he is with that one little message. But, since that will draw attention, he decides that singing along to the music the loudest will be less obvious. He can totally carry a tune when he wants to, but right now Dean goes off pitch while he sorts the ornament boxes out into which ones go at the top of the tree, the middle, and the bottom. At least he doesn’t have to worry about the tree lights or garlands being tangled. He always wraps them carefully around cardboard inserts he made himself. Because when Dean Winchester gets organized, he gets organized _right_ , Goddammit.

He sends Cas pictures throughout the evening while they’re decorating the tree with some of the nerdiest ornaments possible. Judging by his reactions, Cas seems to like them. He’s probably one of the few people Dean knows who appreciates the Harry Potter, Star Wars, Star Trek, and various other franchises that they have ornaments from. Dean’s a little disappointed in himself because not a single one of the nerdy ornaments are his own. They’re all Charlie’s that she brought with her when she moved in because her parents didn’t want them.

All the other ornaments are normal ones that Jo brought in, or Dean bought to fill up space, or Mom handed off to him. She’s kept all the family ornaments with sentimental value for herself – including the hand-me-down _Santa’s Money-Sack_ that John gave him when he turned sixteen. Sam is forever bitter than Dean has one and he doesn’t. It’s basically just a felt Santa with a zippered pouch for a belly. That little guy is a tradition passed down from Winchester to Winchester, starting with Dean’s Great-Grandpa, who gave it to his Grandpa, to his Dad, and then to him. Every Christmas, the owner of the bag writes the year on a dollar bill, rolls it up, and adds it to the bunch in the pouch.

Another part of Christmas tradition is Dean sitting next to the tree while it’s going up, counting out each and every bill. There’s an IOU paper inside too, with the latest batch of bills, that says how many _should_ be in there. Dad takes out the old ones when the bag gets too full. The rest of the bills are kept in a little container with the decorations for the tree. Of course that’s at the Winchester house and not here. And, honestly, Dean doesn’t want it here. Not until he’s got a kidlet of his own to hand it down to. It doesn’t matter how many years he lives here, Christmas won’t be Christmas if it’s not at the Winchester house.

With all their goofing and breaks for delicious snacks, it takes their little group a little more than an hour to finish up the vast majority of the tree. The very last thing to go up is the star on the top of the tree and Dean very literally shoves the rest of them out of the way. There’s a ton of pomp and circumstance involved in this and he shakes out his arms before rolling up his sleeves.

“Alright, peasants. Step back and let the King of Christmas do his business.” Dean takes the star out of the box. It’s a ten point star with lights all over it. A little tacky, but it was one of the hand-me-downs from Mom that Dean wasn’t going to turn down. He grew up putting this on the tree every other year as they alternated between the star and an angel their great-great-grandmother made once upon a time. The star comes from ‘ _the old country_ ’ or so Dad claims, but Dean doesn’t quite believe him.

Sam rolls his eyes with a loud sigh. The poor guy is always just _so_ jealous that Dean is the one who gets to put the star on the tree. But that’s just the joy of being oldest – and totally why he insists that the Winchesters don’t decorate until he’s there to help. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Dean lets anyone else put the star (or the angel) on the top of the tree. He’ll do it until the day he dies or until there’s a next generation to pass the mantle down to.

“Alright, Mr. Ego, I’ve got the phone ready. Do your business and I’ll get a picture of it.” Charlie sighs and holds up Dean’s phone, ready and waiting.

Dean steps up on the stepping stool they got for Charlie and Jo to put the ornaments higher up on the tree. “I expect some applause when this sucker is plugged in.”

“You’ll be lucky if you don’t get a boot in the behind. Put it up, you jerk.” Sam slaps Dean in the ass before he backs out of swatting range.

As soon as the star is on the tree and they’ve taken their selfies with the tree, Dean grabs Sam in a headlock and noogies the hell out of him. It fucks Sam’s hair to hell and back again, but dear God did it feel good. He drops into the arm chair with a laugh and takes his phone back from Charlie. Dean kicks his feet up on the ottoman and wiggles down to get himself comfortable. It’s time to bask in a job well done. Except for putting the bins away. They cleaned up as they went, so it’s just a matter of sticking the bins back up in the garage.

However, he can do that _after_ he sends Cas a picture of him putting the star on the tree. Oh, and he should send the one of the finished tree all lit up with the rest of the room’s lights off. **_On a scale of 1 to 10, how awesome is this tree??_**

Cas answers with a thumbs up emoji. **_Easily an 11!_**

Damn fucking right it is. Dean is mid-laugh when Jo slaps him in the leg and drops a large box in his lap. “His highness shouldn’t be getting so comfortable. We’ve still got some decorating to do.”

Shit, that’s right. He almost forgot about the rest of the house. They’re not doing _that_ much, but there’s still a box full of garland to put out and a few little odds and ends that they’ve all gathered over the years. They don’t have any of those winter wonderland scenes that people set out over a bed of fake snow on a sofa table, or dining buffet, or whatever poison they prefer. His house doesn’t have anything like that, so Dean doesn’t need any of those kinds of decoration.

It takes them about fifteen minutes to put up the garland around the windows and along the edges of all the shelving cases, storage units, and doorways on the main floor. If anyone wants to decorate their room upstairs, that’s up to them. Personally, Dean doesn’t see the point of it. He’s the only one who’s ever gonna see it anyways. Besides, they’re having their fun with mistletoe. They hang it in the door to the laundry room off the kitchen. It’s all for shits and giggles though, since it’s super rare for anyone to go through that door at the same time. Mostly it’s been done for aesthetic than anything else.

By the time they’re done, the food has been polished off and the music has looped through like five times. They’ve had a good time setting up, and clean up goes quick. Dean doesn’t feel like moving the car again tonight, so fuck that noise with putting the bins away. He’s plenty happy to chill with his friends and a tradition he, Charlie, and Sam have had for more years than any of them know.

Charlie makes three bowls of popcorn before they all settle down in the living room to watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. It might be a Monday night and Sam might work in the morning, but he’s fully planning on spending the night here. He can just get a ride to work in the morning with Dean anyways. Oh the joys of working close to each other – especially given the fact that their town is so fucking small they don’t even have a McDonalds. Like, seriously, that’s just a _travesty_.

Since Dean and Sam can’t stay up _too_ late, they both plan to enjoy what they can now with this little pseudo-family they’ve basically adopted. That’s perfect in its own way, because Charlie won’t be getting this with her family this year and Jo really doesn’t know if Ellen is going to have the time do much home set up given the renovations at the Roadhouse. It’ll probably be a subdued Christmas for her this year. On the bright side, the Roadhouse is right on track to be opened again in the spring – and everyone is looking forward to going.

Actually, maybe Dean might be able to invite Cas along to that. If things go well between them, that could be a real honest to goodness actual _date_. Clearly things are going slower between him and Cas than he thought they were, but it’s a good slow and he is definitely looking forward to seeing where it might go.

_** ** _

**_Tuesday – December 1 st, 2015_ **

Castiel wakes with a start as the edge of his bed starts to bounce violently. Claws rake through the blanket against his side as Nike flees from whatever fresh hell is besetting him now, meowing unhappily the whole way. With a groan, he opens his eyes to fix the bleary shape of his older brother with a withering glare. It’s likely not nearly as powerful as it could be, given how un-awake he is right now. Gabriel goes unbothered by the glare and continues to bounce the end of Castiel’s bed with both hands.

“What do you _want_?” Castiel flails an arm out to make him stop.

“It’s December First, Cassie!” Gabriel crows, dancing just out of reach. “It’s time to get up so we can _decorate_. Or do you want me to start singing Christmas carols to get you in the mood?”

Dear God, Castiel regrets ever wanting to decorate. He rubs both hands over his face and arches his back in a stretch. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock! The sun’s been down for, like, half an hour _at least_. It’s time to _decorate_ , Cassie. Get your butt up and let’s fucking _go_.”

Gabriel is much too chipper for this time of day – regardless of whether or not he’s been awake for over twelve hours. Castiel mumbles incoherently under his breath and rolls his way out of bed. Nike is already sitting at her food dish. The moment that she sees that he’s awake, she starts meowing indignantly. She always takes it as a personal affront if her dish is empty. He continues to roll his shoulders and stretch his back as he crosses the small room.

“Can we let my wings out before we do anything?” The ache between his shoulder blades twinges painfully as he bends over to shake some kibble into her bowl from the container stored in the closet. He picks up the bowl for her wet food, since he’ll have to get that from the kitchen.

“They won’t get in the way while we’re decorating, will they?” Gabriel sounds skeptical, but he’s already taken his ever present pocket knife out.

Castiel places the bowl on top of his short bookshelf by the door and pulls his t-shirt over his head. “Have they ever been in the way before?” He can’t wait for tomorrow when he’ll be taking _the sleep_.

“Not really, I guess.” Gabriel winces slightly as he the knife over the pad of his thumb. “But we’ve never really _decorated_ before.”

Now that’s just blatantly untrue. “We used to decorate with our parents all the time. Father and I never sealed our wings for that.”

In fact, Castiel never sealed his wings once before Gabriel learned magic. Prior to that, he and their father would merely hide their wings under long, heavy coats whenever they went out at night. Since they lived out of town, they really didn’t go into town all that often. If they did, it was after hours so they could see movies or go for a long walk. Really, that’s probably why Castiel absolutely _had_ to buy his overcoat when he found it.

After releasing his wings and wiping the remaining blood away, Castiel spends several minutes just standing in his room and stretching his wings. It feels _wonderful_ having them out again and he can’t stop groaning every time something in his back pops or he arches his wings _just_ right. Now comes the hard part. Gabriel has already disappeared into the rest of the apartment and Castiel is left to find something in his closet that he can wear so he won’t be shirtless while they’re decorating. As it stands, he’s fairly certain that he doesn’t own any wing-friendly clothing.

“Cassie, come out here!”

“I haven’t found a –”

Gabriel kicks the wall, startling Nike away from her kibble. “I’ve got it covered. Get out here!”

How could he possibly have it covered? Castiel frowns and folds his wings close to his back as he steps into the hallway. Gabriel is waiting for him, a grin on his face and a full apron in hand. He’s taken the long bit that covers the thighs and pinned it against the inside. It’s now an odd looking attempt at a halter top and Castiel stares at it with no small bit of horror. This must be some kind of joke. Any moment now Gabriel is going to laugh, toss it aside, and pull out a t-shirt with part of the back cut out.

“Here, wear this!”

“I am _not_ decorating our apartment while wearing an apron that says _Kiss the Cook_ on it.” Castiel shakes his head and his wigs puff in defiance.

He shakes out the apron and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Yes, you’re going to wear it and you’re going to like it because we are _not_ decorating with your pecs out.”

With a sniff, Castiel crosses his arms over his chest protectively and tilts his chin up. “You’re just jealous that I look better than you.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and sighs. “Stop rubbing it in my face and just put the damn apron on.”

They stare each other down for a few moments before Castiel resigns himself to his fate. He really doesn’t have much choice, and he doesn’t really feel like sitting around shirtless. The only time he feels comfortable doing that is when he’s alone in his bedroom. With a sigh, he puts the apron over his head and tries _very_ hard not to feel like he’s wearing a bib. He turns and lifts his wings out of the way so Gabriel can tie it around his waist.

“There. Doesn’t that feel better?”

“It feels _weird_.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted your wings out.” He shrugs and pushes past Castiel to head into the living room. “Now let’s get cracking. Some of us still have to work at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Castiel is about to follow when Nike meows disdainfully from around his ankles. She rubs against his leg in her attempt to remind him that he has yet to give her the best part of her evening meal. Clearly the wet food is preferred and she is _very_ upset with him for not finishing her breakfast. There will be no decorating done with her in this mood, so Castiel makes the executive decision to finish feeding her before going to the living room himself.

At some point during the day, Gabriel put up a tree. Castiel discovers this upon coming down the hallway. There’s a small fake tree standing in the corner of the room that _definitely_ wasn’t there when he went to bed this morning. It’s barely tall enough to reach Gabriel’s shoulder, and it’s perfect. He couldn’t have picked a better one for their apartment. Anything bigger would have taken over the room and their apartment is _not_ big enough for that.

There’s a box sitting in the middle of the floor and Gabriel is sitting next to it. He pats the top of the box with a smile. Castiel recognizes it from a storage locker they rent. They pay a year at a time for it, in cash, and keep it under a false name so it can’t be traced back to them. It’s where they hold all the stuff from their hometown when they finally decided to settle down here in Montpelier. Their handlers within the FBI brought it over for them when their witness protection came to an end. Before that, this box and a dozen others came from another storage locker.

Much to Castiel and Gabriel’s disappointment, the FBI had taken all the earthly possessions from their childhood home and had to look through each and every thing for any tracking spells that might have been placed on them. It’s a good thing they did it, because according to their reports, there were some. Anything with a spell they couldn’t break, they destroyed. Luckily, most everything were things that Castiel and Gabriel didn’t want back anyways.

When the FBI finally released their family possession, they actually took very little of what was held for them until the end of their witness protection. They didn’t want very many things weighing them down. Castiel hardly considers it theirs anyways. What they have in their go bags is what’s most important to him. Everything in the storage locker are things that they could come back and get later on when the area is cleared. Because if they ever need to run, then they need to notify the FBI again to have them come check out the situation. After the area is cleared again, they’ll likely never return there again.

It’s a little jarring to see one of those boxes here. Castiel hasn’t looked at any of that stuff since the FBI delivered it to them. He lowers himself to sit next to it and watches as Gabriel lifts the flaps out of the way. His feathers fan and puff at the contents. Of course he expected Christmas decorations, but what Castiel wasn’t prepared for is the wave of nostalgia at the sight of them. His chest is suddenly four sizes too small for his lungs and he can practically _hear_ his mother singing off key carols. His wings tuck tightly against his back, remembering the flee of his father’s wing curving over them while they sat in front of the fire and read old stories together.

There’s a slight tremor in his fingers as he reaches into the box and starts taking out the containers inside. Everything is still in the ancient original containers for the ornaments, and each one is labeled with their late grandmother’s handwriting detailing the history of every ornament. She wrote out where it came from and who passed it on. Many of them came from Russia, which is where their father’s family came from. Others were gifts from loved ones, homemade, or purchased for a sentimental reason.

Some of the ornaments are kept in Tupperware from a decade ago and carefully wrapped in paper towel. The Tupperware containers have no labels on them, and they don’t need it. Those are ones that their mother made especially for their family. She had ornaments custom made with their baby pictures; Castiel, Gabriel, and both their mother and father when they were infants. There are some that she purchased blank and hand wrote their names and birthdays on, and at least one ornament has a family picture custom printed on it.

Castiel hasn’t seen a single one of these for over a decade and his heart aches at the memories each one dredges up. He almost regrets that he let Gabriel be the only one who went through all these boxes to decide what they did and didn’t want. Back then, Castiel didn’t want to look at anything that reminded him of his family at that time.

“Hey, remember this?” Gabriel holds up the ornament with his name and birthday on it. He turns it and points out a few cracks that have been obviously glued together. “Remember when I was goofing off and tried juggling this with some of those generic ornaments? Out of all the ones I could’ve dropped. This is the one that hit the floor.”

Yes, he does remember that. And he remembers how upset Mother was about it. “I remember her making you sit down and glue all the pieces back together because she was _not_ going to order a new one for you because you were being an idiot.”

Gabriel laughs and puts his ornament aside. “Well, if we’re going to have one for everyone in our family, you’ve got a month to get one for your cat. Oh! Look, our stockings!”

From the very bottom of the box, he takes out four red and white stockings. Each one has their names written on it in Mother’s hand with sparkly paint. She didn’t even use her given name. Two of them merely read _Mom_ and _Dad_. A painful twinge stings in his nose and Castiel blinks back the need to cry.

“Are we going to put all of those up?”

“I don’t think so.” He folds their parent’s stockings and puts them back in the box. “We only needs ours, and one for Nike, if you feel like it.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and looks up from the container he’s inspecting. “Is that _sentiment_ I hear in your voice, Gabriel? You _want_ me to do more to incorporate her into our lives?”

“Forget I said anything.” Gabriel shakes his head and makes a shooing motion.

As if that’s going to be enough to keep Castiel from bringing this up again in the near future. Those are both _very_ good ideas and he makes a mental note to do both, if not more. He’ll definitely have to buy her some kind of gift. Maybe Christmas is when he’ll finally get her a cat tree to go by one of the windows. Either in the living room or in his bedroom – though he can never keep the curtains drawn during the day when he’s sleeping.

Almost as if speaking of her has summoned her, Nike appears in the thick of things while licking her chops. She looks satisfied, though she’s in need of a brushing. Castiel will have to do that after they’re done their decorations. He carefully stacks the ornament boxes off to one side while Nike takes her time to investigate all the new things on her own. Gabriel stops her from jumping into the main box – if only because their parents stockings are still inside.

“If she breaks a single ornament, you can forget everything I said before.” He points a threatening fingers at Nike as she slinks away behind Castiel, clearly wounded over not being allowed in the box. “I’ll kick her tail back to the streets if anything breaks.”

“Don’t bother with the empty threats.” Castiel rolls his eyes and lifts one of his wings for her to come around on his other side. “If she breaks anything, you can fix it with magic.”

Gabriel huffs and crosses his arms, fixing him with an impressive glower. “Just because I _can_ doesn’t mean that she should be allowed to break it.”

“If you’re mean to Nike, I’ll take off the apron and flex for the rest of the evening.”

“Your fangirls would _die_.” He laughs and stands up to move the main box to the couch and out of the way for their decorating.

Castiel’s smile falls into a frown. “I don’t have fangirls.”

“No, of course not.” Gabriel throws a teasing grin over his shoulder. “You just have _Dean_.”

The mere mention of Dean being a _fan_ of him sets Castiel’s stomach into somersaults. It’s certainly not a _bad_ feeling, but it’s a very confusing one and he doesn’t want to focus on it in any stretch of the imagination. He fixes Gabriel with the darkest look he can possibly give, spreading his wings to add to the effect. That does the trick, as Gabriel looks momentarily apologetic before he dives for one of the smaller containers on the floor.

When he stands up again, he has a porcelain angel in his hands. “I’ll let you put this on top of the tree.”

“Don’t try to bribe me.” Castiel turns away from the temptation. He can count on one hand the number of times Gabriel let him put the angel on the tree when they were growing up.

“Is it working?”

Dammit. He sighs and his wings droop in surrender. “ _Yes_.”

“Good.” Gabriel perks up more with a smile. “Now put on some music. I’m going to get the rest of the stuff for the tree.”

What other stuff could they need? Gabriel doesn’t give him the chance to ask. He’s already in his bedroom before Castiel is on his feet. By the time he comes back with a few shopping bags in hand, there’s some happy Christmas carols playing from the laptop on the desk. Castiel found the playlist on Youtube and he hopes that the happy beats will be enough to stave off any further emotional depression he can feel brewing from delving into the past.

In one bag there’s a box of Christmas lights, and the other is full of garland. Nike is immediately interested in that particular bag. The moment Gabriel puts it on the floor, she’s right there to check it out. Castiel hasn’t even opened the box of lights before she’s knocked the bag over and started pawing the contents out. When she starts crawling into the bag, Gabriel finally notices and shoos her away.

“Cassie. Keep an eye on her!”

“I’m busy with the lights. Why don’t _you_ keep an eye on the garland?”

Of course Castiel does keep at least some of his attention on her, especially when her attentions turn to exploring under the tree. Even Gabriel stops cleaning up the garland. They’re both curious to find out whether or not Nike is one of those cats who enjoys climbing the Christmas tree. If she is, they’re going to have a problem on their hand. After a tense few moments, she loses interest in the tree and moves on to start looking for an empty box among all the ones sitting out on the floor.

Gabriel sighs and takes the box from the couch. He puts the stockings on the table and puts the box on the floor. Nike is sitting in it within seconds, her purr rumbling just loud enough to be heard over the music – though barely.

“That’s her taken care of.” He dusts his hands as if he just did a big job. “Now put the lights on the tree first, Cassie. I’ll do the garland and then we’ll do the ornaments together.”

Honestly, it’s Castiel’s fault for thinking he wouldn’t try some kind of prank. While he’s busy manoeuvring the string of lights around the tree and making sure that the plug end is near the outlet in the corner, Gabriel is up to no good. It takes Castiel longer than he cares to admit to notice the extra weight on his wings. When he does, he looks over his shoulder to find them festooned with sparkly silver garland. While it might stand out rather nicely against the black of his feathers, that’s definitely not where it belongs.

All it takes is one exasperated glare to make Gabriel take the garland off his wings and onto the tree. It’s quick easy work to finish everything else. Castiel knows it used to take them so much longer to do this when their family was whole, but it feels like no time at all before the angel is on the tree and the lights of the apartment have been turned off so they can appreciate the work they’ve done.

With the ease of having done it a thousand times over, Gabriel throws an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze. “I think we did good tonight. Don’t y’think, Cassie?”

He hums in agreement. “Our parents would be proud.”

“Damn right they would be!” Gabriel steps away and claps his hands together sharply. “Alright, I’m going to get us something from downstairs before we put out the rest of the decorations.”

Oh God no. That doesn’t mean – No, it _does_ mean it because Castiel can see that little monstrosity sitting in a cradle of paper towel and tissue paper. “I’m sorry, but that elf thing creeps me out.”

“Mom loved her _Elf on the Shelf_ and you’re going to respect it.” He gives Castiel’s wing a sharp tug as he heads for the hallway. “It’s going to watch us watching TV every night between now and after New Years, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Castiel barely manages to suppress a shudder. “Why do you torture me?”

“I let you keep the cat, so we’re keeping the elf.”

While Gabriel is downstairs, Castiel takes the time alone to take pictures of the tree and send them to Dean. If he did that any sooner or any later, he can’t even imagine the amount of teasing he would get. It was bad enough the other day when Dean was texting him everything from his own decorating party. While Castiel certainly appreciated the updates and enjoyed them immensely, Gabriel wouldn’t leave him alone about them.

He makes sure that none of the pictures show enough detail of the ornaments that have his wings on display before he hits the send button. **_How does that look?_**

Dean responds surprisingly quickly. **_Looking good! For not decorating in a hella long time, you’ve done a great job! 10/10!_** He includes a few gold stars in the message for good measure.

 Castiel’s wings fluff at the compliment, entirely involuntarily. He works at mentally smoothing them out while he takes a picture of Nike hiding in the box. **_This is what she’s been doing since we started._**

The message starts with a laughing emoji. **_Is the tree safe around her? Those were some fragile looking ornaments._** Dean ends it with a serious, wide-eyed emoji.

 ** _So far so good. We’re keeping our eyes on her, though. She did express a particular love for garland._** A smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he leans down to pet Nike in the box.

Dean sends a message solely of laughing emojis before he sends one of text. **_Good thing she’s not at my place! We have garland EVERYWHERE._**

Castiel snorts and sends an eye roll emoji. **_I think we’re going to keep it strictly to the tree to discourage her attacking it anymore._**

**_Good plan!_ **

Any further conversation is cut short by Gabriel’s return from his venture to the café. He has brownies and a few of what constitutes his spin on a cannoli. The plates ends up on the coffee table, but Gabriel remains standing and facing Castiel – until he holds out a little bag.

“Here. Early Christmas gift.”

What in the world is this? “When did you – Why did you –”

Gabriel shrugs and flaps a hand between them. “It’s nothing. I just got it when I got the decorations for here and for downstairs.”

“And when did you get _that_?” Was it a day before Castiel woke up?

He shifts and turns away, acting like he’s busying himself with the decorations they still need to put out. “I guess you could say that I got it when I stole your phone last week. When I left the apartment. I went shopping to keep me from smacking you.”

“My, but you’re being quite the altruist.” Castiel accepts the bag, but not without a touch of smug.

“Bite me.”

Oh, well now _that_ is certainly interesting. “We don’t want to relive my terrible twos. I believe you still have the scars, don’t you?” He has no memory of those years, but he knows Gabriel does.

The treat gets him a middle finger. “Just open the damn thing, okay? I noticed you were getting low and thought these were awesome. They’re totally in the holiday spirit, so there you go.”

Castiel turns the bag open in his hand to find a new pack of origami paper. Half of them seem to be Christmas themed and they’re perfect. He can already see the holiday dragons he’ll fold out of them. Normally he would give them out with the mugs as usual, but he knows these are going to be too special for that. They’ll need to go to someone who’ll appreciate them and there’s only one name that comes to mind; Dean.

“Thank you, Gabriel. These are lovely.”

“Figured you’d like ‘em.” Gabriel puffs up, clearly pleased with himself. “Now let’s put out the rest of this stuff and clean up so I can go the hell to bed.”

_ _

**_Saturday – December 5 th, 2015_ **

Dean looks up from the yarn and crochet hook in his hands. There’s a half-formed mouse pinched between his fingers and it’s coming out _awesome_. But that’s not the focus of his attention anymore. What in the hell was that sound? He definitely heard something over the sound of gunfire and delirious laughter in his headphones. He taps the space bar on the keyboard to pause the Youtube video of a gamer playing _Garry’s Mod – Prop Hunt_.

He takes his headphones off and twists in his chair, listening for a repeat of whatever it was he heard. Jo is at work, so it couldn’t have been her, but Charlie is here. Did she call him? Or was it a door downstairs? Or – Oh, never mind. Dean discards all the other options lining up in his head when he hears the toilet flush. It was just Charlie going into the bathroom that he heard. Welp, that’s enough distractions for him. He’s got a limited time frame to finish this first attempt at the crochet mouse before he has to leave for the day.

While he expected to be a _little_ rusty, Dean wasn’t prepared for just how bad he is at this. He’s had to restart this mouse like four times now because he keeps missing stitches. But now he thinks he’s got it at least a bit under control. For one, he’s almost done and he hasn’t missed a stitch yet! Practice makes perfect, of course. If this one turns out nicely, he’ll use it for Nike. Otherwise this is just a trial run for the rest of the toys he’ll be making.

According to all the tracking for his packages, all of Dean’s gifts are supposed to be delivered in the next week or so. And _that’s_ why he wants to get the mice taken care of right away. Once his packages arrive, he’ll be one hundred prepared for Christmas and that’s going to feel _so_ good. He’s totally going to lord it over literally everyone in his life while they’re still scrambling with their own shopping. Of course, if someone asks nicely, he’ll be happy to help. Dean hates the malls at Christmas time, but he prides himself on his gift giving capabilities and can definitely spread that knowledge.

Dean is just tying off the mouse when the alarm on his phone starts going off. His timing is perfect and he pats himself on the back while getting dressed. Before he leaves, Dean grabs a bag with a few things he needs for tonight with Cas – including the second book of _The Tamuli_ and the little blue whale origami he made for Cas. He had to go and get _The Shining Ones_ from the library because Charlie reads too fucking slow and Dean doesn’t want Cas to have to hold himself back – even though _he_ was the one who suggested the race in the first place.

With both of those he’s ready to go and get Sam from work. It’s just before four o’clock when he walks into the café. Sam is nowhere to be seen, but Tessa is at the counter. She winks at him while pouring the coffee for someone else.

The moment it’s his turn in the very short line, Tessa leans forward excitedly. “Sam’s washing dishes. I’ll get him in a second. First tell me what you’re bringing me today!”

“Keep it down, will you?” He rolls his eyes and puts the origami on the counter. “Cas still doesn’t know, does he?”

She shakes her head and picks the whale up. “He doesn’t have a clue and my lips are sealed. Promise.” Instead of putting it away, she turns the whale over in her hands. “Have I ever mentioned how super sweet these are?”

“Every time I drop one off.”

Tessa sighs softly and tucks it away in the drawer. She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes with a teasing grin. “How much would it convince you to go out with _me_ instead?”

“I’ll let you know when Cas officially turns me down.” If he ever gets up the courage to actually _ask him out_. Jesus, that’s probably never going to happen. How will he ever explain to his parents that he’s into dudes too and he’s _really_ into this one dude in particular? That’s not even touching on how Cas is a Creature. Dad might actually have a heart attack and die if Dean said he was dating a guy _and_ a Creature on top of that.

“Aw, don’t think like that.” She reaches over and puts a hand over Dean’s. For a minute it makes him think that she heard his quick mental breakdown for a moment there, but obviously that’s not possible. “Trust me, Dean. He likes you.”

He puffs up and holds his head a little higher. “Of course he does. I’m _adorable_. But I’m not so sure he’s _in_ to me, y’know?”

She sighs and pats his hand before stepping back towards the kitchen door. “Well, here’s hoping he kicks you to the curb. I win if he does!”

“Ouch.” Dean puts a hand over his heart and staggers back a step. “Make sure you actually _give_ him that, okay?”

“I promise I will.” Tessa draws a cross over her heart and pokes her head into the kitchen. “Hey, Sam! Your big brother is here to get you!”

Well, that’s one thing off of his mind. A bit. He _is_ coming back here later tonight to decorate.

That _later tonight_ ends up being a lot sooner than he had planned. Dean only stays at the Winchester house long enough to briefly visit with Mom and Dad before he heads out again. Otherwise they’ll drag him into staying for dinner and if that happens, he’ll probably end up being the one who _makes_ dinner. And that means he’ll never leave, so he ducks out as quick as he can. Without nowhere else to go and no desire to go home again, Dean heads straight back to the café.

“Back already?” Tessa actually looks surprised when he walks in again. “Did you forget something?”

“Nope. I’ve got plans with Cas later.” He hangs his coat on the back of a chair and puts _The Shining Ones_ on the table. “I’ve come for food and I’m going to read while I wait for him.” And hopefully get a jump start on reading book two over him. Dean knows for a fact that Cas is reading slower than usual so he doesn’t _out read_ Dean on.

Tessa taps the cash register. “Alright, Romeo. What can I get for you?”

Dean orders a soup and sandwich and waits for it at his table, already utterly enraptured the moment he opens the book. He’s so wrapped up in it, that he doesn’t even hear Tessa call him for his food – if she did. For all he knows, she just decided to bring it over when it was ready without calling for him. He eats the food without really noticing it either, going on autopilot. Now that he’s sucked into story again, the whole world could implode and he probably wouldn’t notice. At least not until his phone buzzes rather loudly on the table. It damn near vibrates right off the edge.

It takes him a minute to find a good spot to stop reading before he can tear himself away to look at the message. Sure enough, it’s from Cas. **_Whenever you’re free to come over, I’m ready._**

Hah! He’s definitely ready. That’s for sure. Dean puts the book aside and takes up his phone to type a response. **_Whenever you’re free, come on down._** It’s a little smart-alecky of him, but he feels rather proud of that response.

There’s no response, but with the kitchen door wide open he can definitely hear Cas come thudding down the stairs moments later. He pops through the door like he apparated right out of a Harry Potter book, looking just a little bit wild. When’s the last time he actually _ran_ somewhere, huh? Looks like he really wasn’t expecting this.

“Dean!” Cas crosses over to his table, not even slightly out of breath. “How long have you been here?”

Good question. The answer to that question can only be determined with the book. Dean finds where he started and where he is. “Oh, about here.” And he picks up his plate where there’s nothing but crumbs and the dredges of the soup. “And about here.”

“Why didn’t you let me know that you were already here?” A frown crinkles Cas forehead and Dean has to physically stop himself from melting at it. “I would have come down sooner.”

“Nah. I didn’t want to rush you.” He bookmarks his page and puts the book aside. “It’s pretty damn cool, but I’ll spare you the details until you catch up.” Cas raises an eyebrow at him and Dean sticks his tongue out at it. “Don’t give me that. I’m reading as fast as I can.” Jesus, he really doesn’t want to know how far ahead Cas is.

With a sigh, Cas takes the empty tray and takes it to the kitchen. Dean follows after him. “So, what’s on the docket for the decorating committee, huh?”

“We’re setting up a pre-lit tree with some garland and ornaments.” Cas dumps the tray in the sink and gestures for Dean to keep following him straight through the kitchen to the back door. “I think Gabriel bought out every garland outlet in the city. We have enough to wrap the entire staircase, line all the doorways, counters and shelves – including the bookcases. Oh, and I believe we might have window vinyls of some sort.”

Damn, that sounds like a lot. “And you don’t have anything for the ceiling? I’m shocked.”

“I already have dibs on the ceiling for my cranes.” He shakes his head and starts passing Dean several shopping bags that are piled up in the corner. “Here, take these. I’ll get the tree.”

“What about Christmas tunes?” Dean puts three bags per arm and carries one in each hand once they’re all filled up. “This _is_ our make-up date for Monday. We _need_ tunes.” It takes him a moment to realize that he used the dreaded ‘ _D_ ’ word. He holds his breath and waits for Cas’s reaction to it.

The reaction is nothing. Cas turns and gives him a flat look as he picks up the tall box that holds the tree. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my first decoration party.”

Oh, really? Now that _is_ interesting. “Could you define a _party_ for me?”

Cas rolls his eyes and makes sure to knock Dean with the box. “Don’t start with me too. I heard enough about it the night Gabriel stole my phone.”

As soon as they reach the main café, Dean dumps the bags out of the way and goes to _his_ bag of stuff still waiting at the table with his coat and book. There’s only one thing left in the bag and Dean takes it out to put on his head. It’s his spiral Santa hat and he absolutely can’t decorate without it. Cas doesn’t see it until he turns around and he _clearly_ wasn’t expecting it, if the look on his face is any indication.

“You brought the hat.”

“The hat is _paramount_.” Dean grins and wiggles his head back and forth to make the spiral go a little crazy. “It’s as necessary for decorating as the music is. And, for the record, that was a quote from _Cabin Pressure_. It’s a BBC Radio Sitcom with the dude who plays Sherlock Holmes in the BBC show. You should totally listen to it because it is _hilarious_.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” A half smile flits across Cas’s lips and Dean vows that he’s going to see a full one before the night is out. “Tessa, please change the music to a Christmas carol station.”

She looks up from wiping down the counter. “Sure thing, boss. Oh, and there’s something for you in the cash register. You might want to take a look at it.” When Cas turns to her, Tessa grins and wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“I’ll deal with it in a moment.” There’s a tight edge to Cas’s voice that Dean doesn’t know what to think of it. But Tessa wiggles her eyebrows at him the moment Cas’s back is to her. It’s just a brief, knowing look before she disappears into the kitchen to change the radio channel.

The DJ is talking when the new channel takes over. There’s no carols yet and that’s just a little bit disappointing. What’s even more disappointing is when Cas turns around and there’s zero emotions on his face. “I have something that I need to take upstairs. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sounds good. I’ll hit the head before we get started.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder towards the hall with the bathrooms.

Before Cas even opens the register, Dean is already hiding out in the bathroom. Though he really wants to see what Cas’s reaction might be to the whale, he also _really_ doesn’t want to see it. It takes a couple splashes of water and several deep breaths to keep himself from thinking about whether or not Cas likes it or what he might do with it when he takes it upstairs. He needs to psyche himself up to keep him from playing dumb and asking about the whole ‘ _cash register’_ thing.

It takes him longer than he thought it would to do that. By the time he comes out of the bathroom, Cas is already cutting the tree box open. Dean clears his throat to let him know that he’s back in the room. “Hey, that was fast.”

“I just had to put something upstairs.” Cas shrugs and looks up at Dean. “Shall we get started?”

“Absolutely!” Dean rubs his hands together and looks around. “I guess we’re going to start with the tree, huh? Do you have a skirt to go under it?”

The look of utter confusion in response to that almost makes Dean laugh. “A _what_?”

“A tree skirt. You put it under the tree to cover the ugly stand and make everything look really nice.” He takes out his phone to find one of the pictures from Monday that has the skirt in the shot. “Here. Just like this, see?”

“Oh!” Cas finally looks like he understands, and that light of understanding falls right into a pout of disappointment. “We don’t have one of those. Not even for the one that we put together upstairs.”

Dean shrugs and put his phone away again. “That’s totally fine. Not everyone uses one.”

“If I don’t like the look of this, I’ll get one afterwards.” He gives the tree a suspicious looking squint. “Can I still put it under the tree after it’s already been set up?”

“Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem. Most skirts have a split up the side that you Velcro together. So it goes on super easy.” Dean starts rifling through the bags of garland to find the few boxes of ornaments inside. Looks like they’re going for the _less is more_ route with this tree.

Everything goes up surprisingly quickly. Cas is a no nonsense kind of guy when it comes to decorating, it seems. At least when it comes to the tree, that is. He did look more than a little startled when Dean started singing along to the carols, blinking at him like he didn’t know how to deal with it. Dean did his best to lure Cas into singing along too, but all Cas did was duck his head with a little smile. Well, at least he seemed entertained. Still does, actually.

When the move on to putting up the garland around the café, Tessa joins in with singing. She keeps it up right through every customer that she handles. To add to her flair, she even dances a little – some quick footwork and swings of her hips. It gets Dean in the mood for it too and he mimics her. Pulls her into a little dance when she’s on his side of the counter. A little waltz never hurt anyone, especially when he spins Tessa right back behind the counter.

Dean throws a stupid grin at Cas, looking for some kind of approval. The laugh he gets is full body and Cas even tilts his head back with it. Honestly, that’s the best fucking thing that could have happened. Victory tastes _sweet_ when it’s accompanied with Cas’s laugh.

Cas follows him to one of the book shelves as Dean drags a chair over to it. He puts a hand on Dean’s hip and it just about makes his heart jump into his throat. “Don’t dance up there. If you fall and hurt yourself, you’ll have ruined the evening.”

As if Dean could dance when he’s blushing this fucking hard. He can barely get a word out around the lump in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. “Yeah, yeah. Just pass me the garland so I can stick it up here already. Your chair is a little wobbly.”

“It is _not_.” Cas hands the stuff up to him.

That’s probably about when he decided to appoint himself as being in charge of making sure that the garland is hung evenly. Once it’s got his approval, Dean uses plastic stinky hooks to keep it in place. There’s nothing stopping it from getting pushed further back, but at least no one is going to be able to pull it forward. They use those hooks over all the door frames, and along the front edge of the counter as they line it.

Halfway through wrapping the railing along the stair, Dean starts dragging his heels. Cas notices it immediately. “What are you doing?”

“I need Christmas carols as fuel and there’s just not enough people singing along to keep the tank full.” Dean lets his whole body droop as he gives Cas wide, hopeful eyes. “If only there was someone else who could sing with us.”

A bright blush fills Cas’s cheeks unexpectedly and he shakes his head. “I don’t _sing_ , Dean.”

“Have you tried?”

“I don’t remember the last time I did.”

“Then give it a shot!” Dean hip checks Cas as he gets more garland for the counter. “Just one verse. Frosty the Snowman is coming up next. You gotta know that one!”

It takes a whole lot of cajoling and begging, but Dean eventually gets Cas to join it. He’s really quiet at first. Just murmuring his way into the song. But when he gets loud enough to actually hear, Dean nearly trips over his own feet. It’s deep, rough, and pretty much on pitch. He loves it immediately and absolutely wants to hear more of it. But they don’t really get the chance for it. They’re basically almost done by that point and he only gets couple songs worth of that quiet singing before they run out of decorations and places to put them.

“That actually went much faster than I thought it would.” Cas stands in the center of the café with his hands on his hips, looking over everything they’ve done. “Gabriel didn’t buy nearly as much as he claimed he did.”

Dean checks the time on his phone. “Well, it’s still pretty early. IF you wanna hang out a little longer, you’ve got plenty of games here. We could play some together, if you want?”

“I think it could be fun.” That happy smile is completely and utterly sincere.

It makes Dean’s knees go wobbly and he masks it by going over to look at the bookshelf full of games. “You got a preference, or can I just pick anything?”

“Pick what you’d like. I’m just going to take these plastic bags upstairs.” Cas shoves all of them into one bag and rolls that one up as best he can. The tree box is already in the back of the kitchen again. “I’ll be right back.”

But it takes him longer than Dean expected. He settles on Jenga and has the whole game set up on a table by the time Cas comes back downstairs. It immediately becomes apparently why he took so long. In one hand he has a bowl of popcorn, and in the other he has a wiggling cat. Nike meows until she gets put down and then she’s immediately off to explore. She starts under the tree and ends up on top of a bookshelf, seriously examining the garland there.

“Nike, _no_.” Cas shoos her down and she slinks off to sulk wherever she sulks.

Part way through their game, she returns to sit on Cas’s lap. She doesn’t stay long, fleeing the moment the tower falls with a loud clatter because Dean was a dumbass and picked the worst possible brick that he could have. That’s not enough to keep her away, though. She’s back in Dean’s lap this time once they set the tower up again. But she doesn’t sit like she did with Cas. Instead, Nike is sitting up and staring at his face. It’s honestly a little unnerving – until they figure out that she’s watching his hat. They learn that when she situates herself on top of the bookcase and swipes at the bobble top while they’re picking another game.

“Oh God, not Scrabble.” Dean ducks out of Nike’s reach and tries to take the game out of Cas’s hands. “I’m totally _shit_ at that.”

Cas smiles brightly and holds the box close to his chest. “Now we _have_ to play it. I’ll determine if you’re terrible or not.”

Dean knows he’s going to get his ass kicked, but he can’t bring himself to tell Cas off about the game. They’re having a good time both with the games and with the conversations. Even if he loses, he’ll have a good time. Because this evening is awesome and he wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_ _

**_Thursday – December 10 th, 2015_ **

The words are starting to blur together on the paper and Dean blinks his way through it. One of his least favourite times of the month is when he has to refresh himself on standard operating procedures. Unless they get a call or have something booked, it’s usually just an afternoon of reading. And Dean hates it. There’s nothing more boring than reviewing _SOP_ s. He hates it with a passion and it makes the day feel five hundred percent longer than it actually is.

“Hey, cupcake.” Mom kicks the edge of his chair and jostles Dean out of his _SOP_ stupor. “I’ve got another package delivery for one Mr. Dean Winchester.” She drops a taped up cardboard box on top of the binder he’s been attempting to read for the last half hour.

“Thanks, ma’am.” Oh thank God. A distraction! Dean drags the box closer, looking for a shipping label and hoping that whatever is listed on it isn’t for Mom. She could’ve read it and ruined the whole surprise – especially since _her_ presents haven’t arrived yet.

Without hesitation, Mom slaps Dean upside the head for calling her _ma’am_. In hindsight, he should’ve known better. She _hates_ being called that almost as much as Dean hates _SOP_ s. On the bright side, she follows the slap up with a kiss to the top of his head.

“That’s not the first one this week.” Mom taps the top of the box and Dean quickly crosses his arms over it to hide the shipping label. He’s not going to take any chances here. “How many are we expecting and why are you sending them here?”

“Now that I’ve got this one, I’m only waiting for one more box.” Dean shrugs and tilts the box away from her eyes. “I put the station as the delivery address because there’s always someone here, but sometimes there’s no one at home and I don’t want a package left on the doorstep where it can be stolen. Especially during this time of the year.”

As an avid user of the internet, Dean is well aware of just how many people get robbed during the holidays because delivery companies just leave boxes out on the stoop. He’s not taking _any_ of those chances. Dean doesn’t even have a security camera up to catch the face or vehicle of someone who would steal from him. Shit. Is that bad? He should probably get a system installed. Charlie’s a techno-geek. She probably knows a thing or two about security systems and could hook them up with one.

“So, what’s in this one?” Mom raps the side of the box with her knuckles.

“Oh, no, no, _no_.” He shakes his head and makes sure to check the label out of her line of sight. Damn. There’s a description of the items, but it’s not for mom. “Don’t you dare read the boxes.” And especially the next one, because that’s going to be the one for his mom.

Mom puts her hands up in her defence and steps back. “Hey, don’t glare at me like that. I’m not going to ruin any surprises. Our receptionist downstairs, however, I cannot vouch for. You might have to bribe her to keep quiet and not tell me anything.” She leans back in to elbow him in the shoulder. “I’ve heard she can be bribed easily with a nice dinner.”

“Don’t even _start_ with me again.” He gives her a shove and sticks his tongue out at her. “You promised you’d stop meddling!” And it’s not like he can even think of looking at someone else when he’s working for the long haul with Cas.

“Fine, fine.” She pouts and tries to pull the puppy eyes. Sam definitely got her genes in that regard and Dean has to look away before he caves and agrees to something dumb like going out on a date with the receptionist. “Just for the record, though, it’s pretty dumb to ship my gift _here_ when you know all the mail crosses my desk.”

Dean shrugs and turns the box over to keep the label hidden. “I’m shipping _everyone’s_ here. Dad, Sam, Bobby, Charlie, Jo. Everyone. So, for the love of God, _don’t snoop_.”

Mom slings an arm over his shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze. “Oh, you are making this so _hard_ for me, baby.”

“Don’t call me _baby_ when I’m on shift, Mom.” He frowns up at her and tries really hard not to blush. Normally he’s fine being her baby boy, but there are co-workers in ear shot and not all of them will let this kind of coddling go over their heads. “Everyone teases me when you do.”

“Then you should probably stop calling me _mom_ while you’re working.”

Well, she does have a point there. But Dean can’t even imagine calling her anything else. “Mrs. Winchester?” Nope, no. That just sounds way too weird.

She shakes her head with a smile. “Or, y’know, _Mary_ will do.”

“No way.” Being on a first name basis with his mom is not a line that Dean wants to cross. He’s not going to be one of those sons. It’s just too _weird_ and feels so impersonal because she’s always going to be his mom, no matter what.

“Call me whatever you want, Dean. As long as it isn’t _ma’am_.” Mom kisses the top of his head again, which is also something she probably shouldn’t do at the station but he’s in no place to ask her to stop. He lives for moments like this. “Now as much as I love chatting with you, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

Before heading back to her office, Mom takes the chance to ruffles his hair. Dean tries to duck his head out from under her hand, but that’s never worked before and it doesn’t work now. He can totally feel a blush coming on and with all eyes in the room on him, he’s not about to let them see any more. To avoid any immediate teasing, Dean takes his package to his personal locker in the sleep room. With some use of his Tetris skills, he manages to just _barely_ fit it with the other stuff in there.

 While he’s not exactly looking forward to getting back to going over the standard operating procedures, Dean _does_ want to get them done. Once he’s finished with them, he’ll be able to take his afternoon nap. Well, that’s only if no call comes in. It’s been a quiet morning so far. Just a few false reports where they just show up, do a quick check and turn off the fire alarm when it turns out to just be someone burning bacon in an apartment complex – or a jackass kid at school who thinks it’s funny to pull the fire alarm so they can get out of class.

Honestly, Dean should have known better. He should _never_ think about a call coming in, because one can bet dollars to donuts that one is bound to happen. And of _course_ that just has to be the case right now. Dean isn’t in his chair again for more than a few minutes before the alarm sounds. Mom comes over the public address system. There’s a car crash on the highway down by the Roadhouse and one of the vehicles involved is on fire.

By the time she’s done talking, Dean is already down the pole and ready to go. So are the others. They climb into the truck, throw on the siren, and head on out. At this point, it’s likely that Dean isn’t going to be getting his nap anytime soon. And that just means that he’s going to need _extra_ caffeine tonight. He makes the mental note to find out exactly how big Cas’s biggest cup of coffee is. Chances are, he’ll probably be ordering it tonight.

**_Friday – December 11 th, 2015_ **

Dean doesn’t care that it’s six o’clock in the evening. He’s making himself some goddamn pancakes. This is going to basically be his breakfast and he’s going to have some fucking breakfast food. Pancakes, bacon, _and_ sausage because after the shift he had, he damn well deserves it. After the car crash, he had just enough time to do his paperwork before he was out again for another one. They got some frost last night and a bit of snow, and suddenly everyone forgets how to fucking drive. Idiots.

He grumbles to himself while rubbing a towel in his hair and puttering around the kitchen getting his plate and syrup ready for food. Dean definitely should’ve dried his hair before he started cooking. It’s taking a whole lot of willpower to not think about how many drops of hair water ended up in his pancake batter. After the night he’s had, it doesn’t freaking matter. All he wants is his sausage links, his truly obscene amount of bacon, and his syrupy dripping stack of flapjacks. Arteries be damned, this is _needed_ to make up for not being able to spend more than a few minutes with Cas.

Since last night was so busy, Dean had to phone in an order of coffee. They dropped him off in front of the café when returning from a call and all he had time for was to pay and pick up the coffee. There wasn’t a chance to visit because there was just _so much paperwork_ to do. The coffee was to keep them awake long enough to do it before all of them were going to crash. It worked, but it didn’t fix Dean’s mood any. He _needs_ his ten minutes with Cas on a work night. It keeps him going more shifts than he cares to admit.

With his meal prepared, Dean takes his seat at the dining table and gets ready to eat. His phone is sitting on top of his book – which he’s just about finished. Book Three of The Tamuli is ready and waiting for him upstairs on his night stand. He’s going to start it today and he’s freaking excited for it. The light on his phone is flashing and Dean frowns at it. How did he not hear the message alert while he was cooking? It sure as hell wasn’t flashing when he brought the book and his phone downstairs after he took his shower and got dressed.

There’s a handful of missed messages from Cas and Dean skims through them. His frown turns up at the edges and he rolls his eyes. Cas is already halfway through _The Hidden City_ and he’s recently started getting a kick out of teasing with spoilers that aren’t spoilers. It’s kinda cute in a dumb way because it means Cas is getting more and more comfortable with him. Teasing is a step in the right direction and he’ll take every bit of it that he can have.

 ** _Yeah, yeah. You’re ahead of me. I get it!_** Dean ends off his message with an emoji sticking its tongue out. **_Just wait. I’m going to catch up to you tonight._**

Cas responds with several laughing emojis. **_And what about tomorrow? Are you planning to spend your day off reading too?_**

Good question. Dean doesn’t really have any plans for tomorrow. He was just hoping to relax, maybe do a few things around the house. Actually, he should probably wrap some gifts. Get them out to where they’re supposed to be. The front steps, walkway, and driveway have all be salted to keep from getting icy, so it’s not like there’s much else to do besides basic house things. Laundry, maybe. Vacuuming. It is his turn to do it on the chore chart.

**_Dunno. Figure I’ll make it up as I go along._ **

**_Sounds fun. Not as much fun as playing board games, though._** Cas’s sends a shifty eyed emoji that gets Dean’s suspicions up in arms. **_Board games such as something like a Scrabble rematch? I seem to recall one of us being woefully terrible at the game last week._**

Oh sweet Jesus. Dean does _not_ want that brought up again. He got his ass kicked by a margin of a couple hundred points and it was downright embarrassing. Any hope he had of impressing Cas went down the drain after the first game. Thing definitely didn’t improve after that.

 ** _I dunno what you’re talking about. Definitely don’t remember being utterly destroyed at Scrabble. Nope, not in the slightest._** He uses the shifty eyed emoji too, just to fuck with Cas.

He’s halfway done with his breakfast by the time Cas answers again. **_To be honest, I would like to hang out with you again. And not just because you need serious training at Scrabble. I’m sorry, but you really were terrible at it._**

 ** _Stop rubbing salt in the wounds, Cas._** And yet, Dean is grinning like an idiot. How could he not? Cas just admitted to liking to spend time with him! That’s some of the best news he’s ever heard and he’s going to have to screenshot that text so he has it forever. **_Sure, if you wanna play games I’d be down for it. At the café again?_**

**_No, my apartment this time. We’ll have more privacy and no employees to mock you for losing._ **

Holy _shit_. Dean puts a hand over his heart and slumps back in his chair. Maybe it’s the metric ton of bacon he just ingested, or maybe it’s the conversation, but his heart feels like it’s going a mile a minute right now. He’s going to get to see where Cas lives and he feels _way_ too ridiculously excited about that. Seriously, he’s so happy that his hands are actually shaking while he types out a response.

**_Hell yeah, I’m down for a game at your place. Just tell me what you want me to bring and when, and I’ll be there with bells on!_ **

Cas gives him the specifics and Dean puts them in his calendar app. It’s not likely that he’s going to forget, but he’s been tracking any big events with Cas. He’s the kind of sap who wants to remember the specific dates, just in case anything ever develops. If he and Cas end up dating and they’re an item five years down the road, Dean wants to be the kind of guy who can look back and say what day they first met, or when they had their first kiss and where. Hell, he might even be the kind of guy who puts together the _our life together_ video that plays at their wedding.

One of Dean’s most closely guarded secrets is that he’s a soppy romantic. No one knows it. Not even _Sam_ , and that’s just because he hasn’t really had a chance to reveal it. His relationships in high school were fun, but he was still finding himself back then. They got roses on Valentine’s Day, and he bought gifts for them just because he could, but he never did this calendar thing with them. Sometimes he wishes he did. Those girls deserved it.

Speaking of the ladies in his life, Dean gets a text from his mom while he’s putting his dishes away. **_Another parcel came in for you today. I left it in your locker and I promise I didn’t look at the shipping label. Cross my heart._**

Awesome! Well, that changes his plans for tomorrow. Slightly. Tomorrow is Saturday, so that’s origami day. He’s going to be down there at four o’clock to pick Sam up from work, so he can swing by the station and pick up his package. Looks like the pieces of tomorrow are falling into place just fine. Even the powder-like snow falling right now isn’t going to stop him. It could be a snow storm tomorrow, and he’d still head out. There are winter tires on the Impala, so snow doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

Dean takes his book back up to his bedroom, prepared to read in the comfort of his own bed. It means that he doesn’t have to put on pants in case Jo comes home early from spending the day with her mom. While it’s totally his intention to kick back and read, that plan gets kicked to the curb when his crochet supplies catch his attention. They’re sitting on his desk with an unfinished mouse. All the others were practice ones, but that one is almost perfect. And he should probably finish it.

Hey, that’s not a bad idea, actually. _That’s_ what he can do tomorrow during the day. Screw chores! If he can get them all finished up before he heads over to Cas’s place, then Dean can take the mug and cat toys with him tomorrow. That would be awesome because he should just get it over and done with. Otherwise it’s going to be a splinter in the back of his mind for the entire month. That box in his closet has been haunting him since it was delivered.

Actually, okay. He’ll just get that shit out of the way now. Otherwise he won’t be able to focus on the story like he wants to. Everything about Cas nags at him at all times of the day unless he takes care of that stuff first. Which is why he kicks back at his desk instead with YouTube playing in his ears and his fingers working at folding a _perfect_ dragonfly origami using a green paper. It’s darker in the center and gradients out to a much lighter green along the edges. There are a half dozen plain white dragonflies sitting on his desk, and they’re going to go in the recycling bin as soon as he’s sure that this one is absolutely _perfect_.

The thing about an origami dragonfly is that it’s not a _true_ origami shape. Mostly because to make the wings, he needs a pair of scissors. Dean works with his tongue sticking out between his teeth while he concentrates. His hands are surprisingly steady while he makes the two quick snips to spread the points of the wings. Once it’s done, he turns it over in his hands a few times to make sure that it’s acceptable. Of course it is, since he’s the one that did it.

“I hope Cas likes you as much as I do.” Dean gently taps the dragonfly’s nose before he puts it aside. All the tested ones get a thank you before being swept into the recycling bin. Half of them had wrong measurements, or he fucked up the cuts because his hand shook a little bit, or he got them perfect and just wanted to do it again before using his _good_ paper.

While the book still calls for him, sitting oh so tempting on the edge of his bed, Dean does his best to ignore it. Since he’s already at his desk, he might as well get the crochet done too. His fingers move with the hook and yarn like they’re separate from his mind while he watches YouTube and tries not to let his mind wander to anything else about Cas. Which is fucking _hard_ considering that the shelf over his desk is covered in the dragons that Cas always gives him with his coffee. He can’t believe that this whole origami thing started with a crane and now look at him. There’s a stack of origami paper in his desk drawer, and only God knows how many test folds he’s thrown out.

Honestly, Dean’s actually pretty proud of how good he’s gotten at origami. His folds are getting more and more complicated, and he’s taking less and less attempts to get it perfect. A crane would be nothing to him now, and he can’t help wondering if he should try his hand at folding one thousand cranes like Cas is doing. If he did that, he could make a wish too – though he really doesn’t have a clue about what he would wish for.

Anything that he would rub a magic lamp for is something that he already has. Dean has an awesome house, a kickass job with a steady income, and a family that has its ups and downs but still manages to be _amazing_. He’s got the whole nine yards and he’s just missing the white picket fence outside to be living the quote-unquote _American Dream_. Actually, no. He’s got the whole _eight_ yards. There’s still an empty spot next to him at night that he would _really_ like to fill.

With the way things are going right now, ideally he’d like Cas to be the one to fill that position. It’s been almost three months since he met Cas and that initial crush has just steamrolled from there. At this point, Dean actually _wants_ to stay single until he can get a bead on whether or not Cas will agree to go out with him. So far, most of the signs are pointing to _yes_. Any other signs are so few that he tries his best not to worry about them. Unfortunately, those doubts are what’s keeping Dean from acting on all the good signs.

Is it so wrong that he just wants to be _positive_ before he takes the plunge and asks Cas out? Or, should he practice? It’s not like he actually has a lot of experience hitting on guys. Actually, he has none. He’s never actually initiated the flirting with a dude before. Whenever he and Charlie hit up the gay club in Burlington, it’s the other guys who buy him the drinks and he just goes along with it for the free booze. Plus, he’s only actually kissed _one_ guy before. Maybe what he needs to be confident enough to ask Cas out is to practice with more guys?

Dean pauses with his crocheting to pick up his phone and start typing out a message to Charlie. She’s on duty right now, but it can’t hurt to ask if she’s interested in going back to the club any time soon. Before he hints send, he reads the message over a few times. By re-read number five, Dean holds down backspace until the entire message is gone. He’s a monogamous kind of guy and his sights are set on Cas. It just doesn’t feel right to out and to drink and dance it up with other guys.

The only downside to that, as he gets back to his stitching, is that he’s starting to get a little _more_ than just pent up. It’s been more than half a year since the last time he had sex and he’s really not sure if his right hand is going to cut it for much longer. While he doesn’t quite like the idea of it, maybe he’ll have the nerves to ask Cas out when he gets desperate enough to want sex.

Dear God, he needs to change his line of thought _now_. A movie and crocheting sounds about right and he switches out YouTube for something a little more entertaining. In this case, it’s one of his favourite movies that he keeps here in his bedroom. That’s the only place they’re safe from little miss sticky fingers Jo. She’s scratched one too many DVDs for it to be _completely_ accidental. It’s just one of the few hiccups that happen with roommates, but totally something Dean is willing to look past.

**_Saturday – December 12 th, 2015_ **

Dean goes back and forth between his closet and the box on his bed. It’s real life Tetris time while he tries to fit all his gifts in the box. He’s taken them all out of the packages they were shipped in and he’s using the biggest one to hold everything, plus the wrapping paper, bags, scissors, and tags he’s going to bring with him. Cas has no idea that he’s going to wrap gifts at his place tonight, so Dean _has_ to bring his own things. Otherwise it’ll feel like he’s trying to mooch supplies off them or something.

When he finally gets to the box with Cas’s mug in it, Dean hesitates. Y’know what, no. He’s not going to bring this tonight. He’s still not quite satisfied with the mice, even though he’s got a few mostly done now. They still need to be stuffed with catnip, and he hasn’t bought that shit yet. Dean puts the mug box back in the corner of his closet where he doesn’t have to look at it or think about it. If he opens it and actually checks the damn thing out, he’s going to fall into some kind of spiral of buyer’s remorse panic. That’s the last thing he needs before going over to Cas’s place.

He mentally files away what he’s going to do with the gifts. Everything for Bobby and the Winchesters goes under the tree at the Winchester house for when they open gifts on Christmas Eve. Dean works Christmas Day and none of them want to wake up early enough for all of them to do it together. The gifts for Charlie and Jo will be going under the tree in this house for opening on the day before Christmas Eve. They’ve lucked out and managed to get a day off together that close to Christmas, so they’re taking the chance when they have it.

With his box filled up and ready to go, Dean triple checks himself in the mirror to make sure that he looks good. His hair is perfect and his clothing clean. He’s not the most stylish firefighter in the crew, but he makes lumberjack look good. Maybe he should grow out a beard. Does Cas like beards? Nah, they’re too much effort and maintenance. Dean likes just a bit of stubble and he’s not going to change anything about himself for someone else.

Neither Charlie nor Jo are home again, so Dean doesn’t have anyone to confirm that he looks good. Usually they’re his home-based wingmen for him. He’ll be winging it tonight without his wingmen, amusingly enough. There’s no one home to tell him not to get a re-useable shopping bag and fill it with a boxed pizza from the freezer and a couple bags of chips. If he’s going to be the asshole who gets his friends to help him wrap his Christmas gifts, then he’s going to bring a ton of food to pay Cas for it. Well, that and Cas _did_ mention that if he wanted any snacks, he was welcome to bring some. Particularly because Gabriel has their own snack cupboard on lock down and he’s not going to let anyone outside the Novak family go into it.

The thing is, while Dean Winchester is awesome at a lot of things, gift wrapping is not one of them. No matter how careful he tries to be, somehow he always ends up with crinkled corners. If it’s not that, then he cuts the paper too short, or it’s uneven, or he uses way too much tape. When the gifts end up wrapped looking like shit, Dean usually just gives up and shoves everything into a gift bag. But Cas, well _Cas_ is an origami pro. Things might be different if he helps. And hey, maybe things are going to be different thing year now that Dean has gotten pretty good at origami himself.

This time when he goes over to Cas’s house, Dean doesn’t have to hunt for a parking spot on the street and he doesn’t have to carry all his shit over from the fire station. Cas told him about the parking spots he’s got behind the café and one of them has been specifically reserved for him. Apparently Cas even put a _sign_ on it. Nothing fancy, just a piece of cardboard with _Reserved By Management_ written on it. But that’s still something and Dean feels fucking _special_. So special, in fact, that he takes a picture of it before he messages Cas that he’s actually there.

 ** _Hey, handsome. I’m here and ready to get my ass kicked at another board game._** In all seriousness, Dean has been looking forward to this since they made the plans for it last night.

In the time it takes Cas to come downstairs to let him in, Dean gets the butterflies loose in his ribcage under control. Not only is he about to go upstairs into Cas’s _home_ , but he just called him _handsome_. He took a flirtatious risk and he’s honestly not sure what made him do it or whether or not Cas likes it. Guess he’ll find out soon enough.

_** ** _

**_Saturday – December 12 th, 2015_ **

Castiel makes sure to take his phone with him when he heads downstairs. He doesn’t want to even _begin_ to think about what Gabriel might say if he finds out that Dean jokingly called him _handsome_. It’s probably nothing, but with all the teasing he’s been on the receiving end of lately, it’s not something he feels like dealing with tonight. What kind of nightmare would it be if Gabriel started teasing him _while_ Dean was here? Dear God, no. He’d sooner smother his own brother before letting that happen.

When he opens the back door to the café, one of the last things Castiel expects Dean to be holding is a box full of what appears to be Christmas wrapping supplies. Considering the time of year, it shouldn’t be _that_ much of a surprise. But given their pre-arranged plans for the evening, it does catch him somewhat off guard. He doesn’t have any gifts of his own to wrap yet, and even if he did he usually pays for it to be delivered gift wrapped if that’s an option so Gabriel can’t snoop. Otherwise, they don’t bother with wrapping considering it’s just the both of them.

“Are we doing arts and crafts tonight?” Castiel steps out of the way and shuts the door behind Dean once he’s inside. “Or did you bring all that because you can’t trust your roommates not to look in it?”

“No one’s home, but I brought them just in case you want to help me.” He shrugs and tilts a smug grin at him. “Do you wanna help me put together another Christmas miracle? My family will freak I show up with gifts that actually look nice.”

Oh dear. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll be any better than you.” Castiel shrugs and leads the way to the stairs. “But we can certainly give it a try.”

“Good enough for me!” Dean sound surprisingly chipper for early evening on a Saturday – presuming he’s been awake all day and doing any of the many things that he enjoys doing on his days off. “What games did you pick for play time, huh?”

There’s something in his tone towards the end of his question that catches Castiel’s attention. He’s halfway up the stairs when he turns around to find Dean still standing at the bottom of them. “Are you coming? You’ll never find out what games I’ve selected if you stay down here in the kitchen all night.”

“I’ve never been up to your apartment before.” He shifts on his feet like he’s nervous, but the grin on his lips is full of bravado. “It’s kind of a momentous occasion.”

“How so?” Castiel turns to regard Dean with a tilted head and a furrowed brow.

He knows why it’s a rather big deal for _him_ , but why would it matter to Dean? It’s not like _he_ knows that he’s the first person Castiel has ever invited up to the apartment. Unless… Did he somehow find out that it is? There’s a password lock on his phone now, so it’s not possible that Gabriel message him, is it? But what if Gabriel saved Dean’s number to his own phone too? Then he could text Dean whenever he wanted and Castiel would be none the wiser.

And yet… Gabriel was the one who insisted that Castiel invite Dean over for another night of board games. In fact, he even demanded that it be held in the apartment instead of in the café. Going so far as to spell the apartment against Nike’s dander and fur shedding because of Dean’s allergies. That was only part of the reason why Castiel agreed in the first place. The rest of the part being that Gabriel had promised that he would make himself scarce for the evening. He’s actually getting ready at the moment to head out to spend some time with Balthazar at a local bar, or something of the sort. They’re going to do whatever unruly things it is that they do together.

Is it normal for his stomach to be twisting itself into knots at the idea that he and Dean will have the whole apartment to themselves? Castiel can’t tell if it’s from nervous excitement, or just plain nerves. He’s never invited anyone into the personal space of their apartment before. This is a _huge_ step for him and he’s doing his utmost best to try not to let that show. But, if he can trust Dean here, then the next step would be going elsewhere to spend time in unfamiliar locations, wouldn’t it? That’s what he’s hoping for at the very least.

Dean shifts more under Castiel’s silent scrutiny before shrugging. “I dunno, man. It’s the first time I’ve ever been up there. It just feels special, okay?”

Oh, damn. Did he just put Dean on the spot without intending to? Castiel doesn’t want to start their evening together off on an awkward foot. Unsure of what to do exactly to act like this _doesn’t_ bother him, he simply nods and starts back up the stairs. Dean follows after him, but he walks like he has stars in his eyes as they reach the top the landing at the door to the apartment. The stairs continue up to the roof, and Dean stops to look up them.

“That’s up to my private garden.” Castiel opens the door and gestures for him to come in. “You have to earn your way up there.” And he honestly hasn’t figured out how to explain away the empty area where he usually takes _the sleep_.

A pout pulls at Dean’s bottom lip and he fixes Castiel with wide, pleading eyes. “Aw, am I not good enough to get to see it tonight?”

“It’s not that impressive at night.” He shrugs and turns away, knowing full well that’s not the truth. Castiel is actually _very_ proud of his garden and he thinks it’s absolutely gorgeous. Granted, his eyes see it as clear as if it were the day. In the dark, to a normal human, it might not be as nice – even with the strings of lights he’s hung everywhere.

Dean snorts, but he follows Castiel into the apartment. “Not impressive at night, yet that’s the only time you ever get to see it? Sounds like you just don’t want to share your garden with me.”

Castiel shrugs and holds the door open for Dean to get out of the way. “I might. Eventually.” Except that the garden is as personal to him as a bedroom, considering it _is_ somewhere that he sleeps too.

As he reaches to open the door, it swings inward before his fingers touch the handle. Gabriel takes a step forward before stopping suddenly. He looks between Castiel and Dean in surprise before breaking into a truly ridiculous grin. His eyebrows go halfway up his forehead before he steps around Castiel. Dean edges out of the way so he can get a few steps down the stairs, going down them backwards so he can keep grinning at them.

“Cas, why is he looking at me like that?” Dean leans in as he speaks in a loud whisper, loud enough that Gabriel can obviously hear him. “It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“Ignore him.” Castiel moves out of the way and guides Dean through the door with his hand in the small of his back. As soon as he’s out of Dean’s line of sight, he directs a disapproving glare at Gabriel and mouths two words at him; _go away_.

“Have fun you two!” Gabriel calls out as he heads down to the café. “Don’t do anything _I_ wouldn’t do!”

Dean twists to look back over his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing at all.” He all but shoves Dean through the door and follows after him quickly, shutting it before Gabriel can say anything else ridiculous. “Just forget it.” Because that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

They take their shoes off at the door, and they head through the apartment to the living room. While Dean unpacks his box of supplies, Castiel takes the bag of food and returns to the kitchen. He puts the frozen pizza in the oven, approving of Dean’s choice of a simple pepperoni toppings. It takes a few extra minutes to find bowls big enough to dump the chips into. By the time he returns with both of them balanced in one arm and cans of soda pinned in the other.

“I hope you don’t mind Root Beer.” He sets everything out on the table and sits on the floor with his back to the couch, sitting opposite Dean. “Gabriel thought it was hilarious to stock this instead of real beer, given that you’d be driving.”

“This is just fine, Cas. Thanks.” Dean cracks open one of the cans and then gestures at his lap. “If Nike speaks for the apartment, I think I’ve been accepted here. Care to confirm on that for me?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the way Nike has draped herself over the bucket created by Dean’s crossed legs. Castiel still tries though and covers the snort that escapes. “I think that would be an apt description. She’s certainly settled into her role as queen of the place, and that attitude carries down into the café.”

“Sounds like a standard cat to me.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Castiel grins and slides one of the chip bowls closer so he can start snacking. All his efforts at working out are thanks to his love for salty snacks. Gabriel got the sweet tooth and Castiel loves himself a good bag of chips.

Dean keeps looking around the room as he works at spreading the wrapping paper out between them. That’s when it hits Castiel that he’s missed an important part of proper protocol when inviting someone over for the first time. It nearly makes him choke on his first few chips.

“I would offer you a tour of the apartment, but you’ve basically seen it all.” He gestures around them with a useless shrug. “It’s not very big. The door off the kitchen is the bathroom, and the doors in the hallway are my bedroom and Gabriel’s.”

“That’s cool.” Dean bobs his head in a nod, but continues eyeing the bare contents of the living room. “You only need a lot of space if you’ve got a lot of stuff. It doesn’t really look like you two are like that.”

Maybe _those_ are the truest words ever spoken. “We’re both as close to minimalists as we’re comfortable getting.” If only so they won’t have anything to miss if they ever have to run. “Now please, show me what you brought for us to wrap.”

“Only if you promise to measure and cut. I’m shit with it.” He slides the rolls of wrapping paper across the table along with a set of scissors. “I can try wrapping, but if it’s turning out shitty, you gotta help me. If we’re both shit at it, I’m more than willing to give up and use gift bags.”

Castiel shakes his head with a smile, a laugh already bubbling in his chest. “I can make no promises, but we’ll definitely give it a shot.”

Dean claps his hands and rubs them together, prepared to start, but Nike lifts her head with a startled meow. “Sorry, sorry.” He drops one hand to absently pet her until she puts her head down again, purring softly to herself.

It’s a rather interesting experience to simply sit and watch as Dean takes his many gift items out of the box next to him. He lines them up to one side of the table, while the bigger items remain in the box. Each gift gives Castiel a new insight to the people in Dean’s lives, not only because of the reasons given behind each person. In fact, he might learn more about _Dean_ than anyone else in those few minutes. It shows just how much he cares about his friends and his family, about how much he pays attention to their likes and their dislikes. There’s actual _thought_ involved in every purchase.

Castiel tries, and fails, to hide his smile behind his hand. The passion in Dean is beyond admirable. He honestly actually cares about the people in his life and wants them to like the gifts that he’s bought for them. It’s incredibly sweet and an odd heat pulses behind his ribs. Castiel can’t help but wonder what kind of gift Dean would get for him. Though, that does bring to mind another question. How long do they need to be friends before it becomes socially acceptable to purchase gifts for one another?

In his personal opinion, Castiel thinks it might be too soon for them. But, on the other hand, he really would like to see what Dean would get him. Oh, but that brings up a whole new branch of anxiety for him. What in the _world_ would he get for Dean? He seems to be someone who has everything they could want. Maybe he could get him a book, or perhaps a movie? What about a gift certificate to a restaurant that Dean might enjoy? Or something that has to do with his car?

There are plenty of options to choose from, but Castiel isn’t sure if they would actually _mean_ anything. None of those options feel even remotely as meaningful as the things that Dean has chosen. It takes some effort to make him stop thinking along those lines. He’s here to _enjoy_ his time with Dean and, apparently, wrap some gifts. Castiel starts measuring the easiest items – the ones that are in boxes of their own. It’s the oddly shaped ones that are going to pose a problem, and he has the feeling that they’ll leave those to last.

*

“Is that the kitchen timer?” Dean twists and looks down the hallway.

There’s a soft beeping sound that Castiel missed over the sound of Nike tearing tissue paper apart – which is ironic, considering his hearing is supposed to be better than any normal human. They gave her a few sheets of her own so she wouldn’t attack the ones used to make the gift bags look nice. No attempt was made to wrap any of the awkwardly shaped gifts, and that saved them quite a bit of time. Castiel was thankful for it, actually. Combined, neither he nor Dean are very good with wrapping paper. It’s more delicate than the origami paper and _very_ frustrating to work with while it keeps ripping if you fold it just a little too roughly.

“I’ll bring the pizza out here after I feed Nike.” Castiel stands and starts to wobble his way to the kitchen, his calves and feet burning with that tingling numbness as blood rushes back to them. He was sitting cross legged for too long, it seems. “If I don’t feed her now, she’s just going to try and beg pizza off of either of us while we’re eating.”

“Claws! _Claws_!” Dean whimpers loudly as Nike jumps out of his lap. “Dude, give your girl a nail trim.”

“They _are_ trimmed. She’s just excited.” Castiel laughs as she trips over her own paws to catch up with him. Nike meows loudly and rubs against his ankles while he takes the pizza out of the oven. “Yes, yes. I’ll feed you in just a moment. Give me space or neither one of us is going to be happy if I drop this hot pizza on you.”

He wastes no time with getting her food dished out and put down in his bedroom. As soon as she’s whisker deep in her meal, Castiel shuts the bedroom door. Nike will likely nap after she’s eaten her fill, and she had more than enough places in there to sleep. It leaves him and Dean free to eat the pizza in peace. Castiel cuts into eight equal slices and leaves it on the cutting board. He carries that back to the living room with two plates, another couple cans of Root Beer, and some napkins.

Dean stands up to take the extra items so Castiel can put the pizza down without issue. “It’s pretty cute that you talk to your cat like that.”

“I don’t see the point of talking down to her.” He shrugs and picks up the TV remote as soon as his hands are free. “Would you like to put on a movie while we eat? Gabriel _insisted_ that we get Netflix, so we can watch almost anything you want.”

“I’m game for anything.” His interest seems to lie more with the pizza than the TV anyways. “Speaking of games, are we going to start with Scrabble again?”

Well he _did_ bring up other games, but Castiel has been looking forward to playing it again all week. And he didn’t even invite Dean over until yesterday. He laughs and pulls the game out from underneath the couch. Dean groans and turns to partially face the TV, feigning disinterest in the game while Castiel sets it up. Regardless, he appears fully invested the moment it comes time for him to draw his tiles. His eyes are bright and excited, watching as Castiel carefully places out the tiles to spell _moth_ as the first word on the board.

Then and only then does Castiel allow himself to take his first bite of pizza. The crust is just this side of crisp, yet still acceptably doughy. It’s how he likes his pizza, but the third bite makes him realize that just because _he_ likes it, that doesn’t mean _Dean_ might like it. He should probably check, just in case it would be best to put half the pizza back in the oven.

“Did I cook the pizza to your satisfaction?”

“S’good.” Dean finally stops examining his tiles and nods. He takes another large bite of his pizza before adding an _E R_ to form _mother_. “Hey, Cas. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” In fact, he encourages it. As long as it’s not anything regarding his species, or that it doesn’t push too far into his past. “Ask away.” He chews at his pizza slowly while mentally rearranging his tiles to find the next best word.

“Have you done your Christmas shopping yet?” Dean looks up with a grin as he tries balancing a chip on the end of his pizza slice before he bites into it. Castiel’s reaction to that must be clear on his face because Dean bursts out laughing. “Don’t knock it til you try it. That extra crunch is _awesome_.”

He rolls his eyes but tries it nonetheless. Instantly, Castiel knows he dislikes it. The mix of textures is just too _weird_ for his liking. “Interesting, but not for me.” It takes a hearty swig of his Root Beer and adding an _L_ and a _Y_ to form _motherly_ on a triple word score before he can actually answer Dean’s original question.

“I should probably get started on my Christmas shopping soon, shouldn’t I?”

Even though they haven’t been much for holiday standards in the last several years, Castiel knows without a doubt that Gabriel will be _impossible_ to live with if he doesn’t get a gift. But that just begs another question – _what_ should he get? It’s so late in December that it will require paying ridiculous shipping costs to get it in time. And he doesn’t even know what to get in the first place. Is it too late to ask Gabriel if there’s anything he wants?

Dean swears under his breath, just loud enough to be heard as he writes Castiel’s score down for him. “I swear to God, you’ve gotta be cheating at this game.”

“Just try not to leave high score spaces open. That’s the trick.” He shrugs and starts rearranging his tiles on his stand to spell out the next word he’s going to use.

“No, you’re cheating and I fucking _know it_.” With a grumble, Dean adds _O D_ and _A_ under the y.

Castiel sighs and gestures at the board. “I’m sorry, Dean, but a Star Wars character is not a viable word. I can’t let you have Yoda.”

Something touches his thigh as Dean shifts and Castiel looks down sharply to see that he’s stretched one leg out under the table. Once Dean’s settled, his leg is no longer touching him. He’s focused almost completely on the game as he carefully slides the _D_ off the board and replaces it with a _G_. Now _yoga_ is an acceptable word and Castiel nods in approval.

“Okay, another question for you.” Dean glances up as he slides three more tiles from the bag to add to his stand. “Are you going to be getting anything for your employees? I only ask because Sam works for you and I want to be able to tease the ever loving shit out of him.”

The employees? Why would he – Oh dear God. Is that a standard thing? Do other employers give their employees Christmas gifts? Castiel isn’t even remotely prepared for something like that and he’s fairly certain that Gabriel isn’t either. “Am – Am I supposed to?”

Dean shrugs and carefully moves his tiles around. “Well, you don’t _have_ to. Not all employers give gifts during the holidays.”

“Does yours?” Maybe, if the fire department does, then Castiel can get an idea of what it is he should do. Their employees have been _so good_ to them that he can’t _not_ get them something for the holidays. Even if they don’t celebrate Christmas, he has to get them something nice, or sweet, or anything.

“Sorta, yeah.” He shrugs again and tilts his head to give Castiel a pensive look, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “But that’s normal because Bobby comes to my parent’s place for Christmas and he always gets me something.” An amused grin spreads and he laughs. “But all the firefighters get a Christmas bonus, and we have ourselves a little party at a restaurant where we can bring family or significant others.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. Would it be easier if they threw a party? Gifts aren’t needed when they’re providing food, drinks, and music. Or perhaps they could close the café for one night and take everyone out to dinner. It would be the one of the few times where Castiel could actually sit and bond with the day staff that he doesn’t get to see very often. While that does sound good, he’s still torn between that and just something simple like gifts. Gifts means he doesn’t have to go out, and he does enjoy that.

Castiel hums and adds an _E_ and an _A_ around the _M_ in the center of the board. “When is your party?”

“Next week.” He sighs and makes a face at the game. “I call bullshit. Ema isn’t an English word.”

“I was just seeing if you were paying attention.” Castiel takes the tiles back and adds _using_ underneath the _M_. “And who are you bringing along?”

It takes a few seconds for him to realize that it might sound like he’s asking if _he_ could be invited. Or maybe it sounds like he’s inquiring whether or not Dean has any _significant others_ in his life. That’s a topic of conversation they’ve never broached before. Castiel can’t think of any good reason why they haven’t talked about it before, but there’s an odd bubbling feeling at the back of his throat that’s making it feel too tight. Why would the answer to that question make him feel so… so _queasy_?

Dean glances up from his tiles for a brief second before he looks back down to keep shuffling them. “Uh, no. No. I just – I usually bring Sam along since Mom and Dad both go since they work at the station too. We don’t want him to feel left out as the only non-firefighter in the family.”

That’s definitely _relief_ that eases the lump sitting at the back of his throat and Castiel is utterly baffled by it. He can only bring himself to nod along. “That sounds like a fun night.”

“It will be.”

Now Castiel is a little curious. If they _did_ have a party or a dinner, would Sam bring Dean with him? But that’s only if they open it up to family and partners – in which case Castiel would _definitely_ prefer taking the gifts route. That’s just too many unknown people for him to want to deal with all at once. He wouldn’t have the safety of the counter between him and them like he did at the Halloween party and that just doesn’t sit right with him. Besides, gifts would probably be cheaper for them than paying for dinner for everyone.

And that just brings him back to his first problem. “If I may… Do you have any ideas about what kind of gifts I could give my employees?” Gabriel might, but Castiel would still welcome suggestions.

Judging by Dean’s frown, he’s not likely to get an answer very soon. If Castiel had to put his finger on it, he would say that he seems stumped by his tiles. From the rounds that they had last week, he can say with confidence that Dean is not very strong at this game. It’s possible that he has trouble rearranging letters into words in his mind – which is why he continues to shuffle them around on his stand. Castiel used to have that problem, but he worked at it and now he thinks he’s rather good at it.

Finally, Dean sighs and turns the last _A_ in _yoga_ into _agora_. “Hah!” He points at it with a laugh. “I learned _that_ from the _Big Bang Theory_.” He looks overly pleased with himself as he adds tiles to his stand again. “And as for the gift, I’d say that it should probably be something small so you don’t break the bank.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “I like that thinking. What kind of small things would be acceptable as gifts?”

“I’d say Google it.” He shrugs and frowns down at his tiles again. “You could do something like filling a mug with chocolate or a gift card to a restaurant. But don’t use a mug you’ve got downstairs. It should be something less _café_ -ish and more – uh – personal, I guess. Something they don’t see every day while they’re at work.”

“Thank you.” Castiel sighs and adds a few tiles off of Dean’s _agora_. “I’ll have to ask Gabriel what he thinks. He’s usually the more creative one between the two of us.”

Dean flashes him a bright smile and reaches over to pat Castiel’s hand while it’s in the tile bag. “You’re both smart guys. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

An opportunity unfolds itself in front of his eyes to bring Dean around more. He can’t let it pass and Castiel smiles widely at him. “I’m enlisting your help in putting together any gift packages that we make depending on what Gabriel decides on.”

That doesn’t affect Dean’s smile in any way. He laughs and adds an _S_ to the end of Castiel’s word. “How come I’ve gotta do it, huh?”

“Because you were the one who brought it up in the first place.” Castiel sticks his tongue out, pleased for the teasing air that’s fallen between them. He does enjoy this kind of camaraderie and he wants to hold on to moments like this forever.

One of Dean’s eyebrows arches upwards in surprise, and it pulls a corner of his mouth up with it. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re making excuses to spend time with me.”

“Of course I am.” He shrugs and ducks his head while playing his next work. “You’re my friend and I enjoy spending time with you.”

Castiel doesn’t expect that his words would cause such a lovely flush to fill Dean’s face. Nor does he expect the rush of heat that fills his chest. It makes his skin start to tingle and he almost starts to feel like he’s short of breath. This isn’t the first time he’s felt pleased at making someone blush, but it’s never felt quite like this before. He rather likes it and starts to wonder what else he can do to make it happen.

Dean rubs at the back of his neck before pushing his tiles away. “Can we play a different game? I suck at this _so hard_.”

“That’s why we’re playing. So you get better at it.” He reaches across the table to push Dean’s stand back into place. “And it’s your turn.”

“You’re doing this just to torture me now, aren’t you?”

Perhaps, but he really does enjoy playing this game and he likes playing against him. Castiel tilts his head with a smile. “If you can play a five letter word, we can stop playing.” But until then, he’ll enjoy this back and forth that they have going.

*

It's not long after midnight when they finally call it quits for the gaming. Gabriel hasn't come home yet, but he did text to mention that he would be returning within the hour. Dean made the executive decision that it's time to go. Mostly also because he has to work at eight o'clock in the morning and he does need to have at least _some_ sleep tonight.

"Seriously, Cas. I'd totally love to stay longer but I really gotta go." He keeps apologizing profusely throughout pulling his shoes and his coat on. "I'm not leaving because of your brother and definitely not because you keep bringing out _word games_ , of all things."

"It's alright, Dean." Castiel shifts the box of gifts from one arm to the other. "I don't fault you. I promise that the next time we have a game night, I won't select anything that has to do with _words_."

With an exaggerated sigh, Dean wipes a hand across his brow. "Whew, thanks! I bet I'll be able to kick your ass at anything else. Word games are just a by product of the devil." He laughs, taking the box and the few gift bags still hanging on one of Castiel's arms. "I work next Saturday, but if you're down for a weekly game night, I can do Sunday."

The same feeling from before swoops through Castiel's chest. His face aches from the smile that spreads across it as he opens the door for Dean to go through first. Having _Dean_ suggest it saved him from finding the courage to extend the invitation, and he's absolutely delighted by the idea. "Yes, please. If you don't mind coming over again, I'll take care of the food next time. It's the least I can do since you'll be coming over here."

"Sounds like a good deal to me." Dean manages to give him a thumbs up before he edges out into the stairwell. He starts down the stairs carefully and Castiel pads after him, not bothering with his shoes.

Even though they're on Main Street, this area is still relatively safe. Despite that, Castiel still wants to wait at the back door to ensure that Dean will get to his car safely. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Kevin is actually standing in the doorway to the café , his back to them. A twinge of disappointment causes a frown as Castiel takes note that he's on his cell phone. The disapprove of employees being on their phones during their shift, but only if there are customers in the dining room. If the place is empty, then Castiel is fine with it.

"No, no, Channing, please just –" Kevin sighs loudly and shoves a hand through his hair. "Just listen to me, okay? I can't let you know about the party tonight. The schedule for New Year’s Eve hasn't been released yet. I'll let you know if I can go after I see – I'm _working_ , Channing. I –"

Something shifts loudly in Dean's box as he steps off the bottom stair. It's just loud enough to notify Kevin of their presence. He turns around sharply and a little colour drains from his face. Wincing slightly, he puts a hand over the receiver of his phone. "I'm so sorry, boss. I promise that I'm going to keep this call really short."

"It's alright." Castiel waves it off and turns to follow Dean towards the back door. "As long as we don't have anyone in the café, then I'm fine with it."

Kevin mouths a thank you before turning away again. "I'm not ignoring you, Channing. My boss just walked in. And I _told_ you –"

At that point, Castiel stops eavesdropping. They've reached the halfway point of the kitchen and there's no point in listening to Kevin argue with his girlfriend. Besides, it would be rude of him to ignore Dean all the way to the door. Though it seems Dean isn't really paying attention to anything. He seems to be looking into a distance that isn't there with a thoughtful look on his face.

Curious, Castiel taps him on the shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just what your guy back there was talking about." He hums and adjusts his hold on the box so he can get his keys out of his pocket. "I haven't actually given any thought to New Year’s yet. It's _the_ party night of the year."

Oh yes, that's right. Thank God that Gabriel hasn't considered holding one. A New Years Eve party feels like it would be louder and far less fun than the Halloween party they had. At least for that one they got to dress up and have fun decorations. What fun is to be had at a New Year’s Eve party? From what Castiel understands, the biggest draw to a that kind of party is getting heroically drunk and kissing your partner when the clock strikes midnight.

There are two problems that he has with that. For one, Castiel doesn't drink. If he does, it's just one or two drinks and then he's done. Mostly, he doesn't like the taste of alcohol and he has yet to find a particular concoction that he would like to have more than once in a night. And secondly, he has no one to kiss at the end of the countdown. There hasn't ever been anyone that he's wanted to kiss, or even thought about doing.

Well, no. That's not entirely true. Until the year of his thirteenth birthday, he used to always have a kiss at midnight. Castiel's mother always took it upon herself to kiss him on the cheek while they watched the ball drop in New York on the television. His family would use party whistles and funny hats and they would sit around together talking about their plans for the coming year, including resolutions. He and Gabriel still do that, to some extent, but it was never the same again.

When they reach the door, Dean turns around and gives Castiel a hopeful smile. "If I throw a party at my place, will you come?"

Castiel's memories evaporate in an instant and he's briefly left with the dizzying sensation of having the ground yanked out from underneath him. Mentally, he tries to spread his wings to catch himself. Physically, he doesn't move an inch – stopping dead in place. He had so many worries with a decorating party that only involved three other people. How in the world would he handle something like a New Years Eve party that will likely have _dozens_ of strangers?

It takes him a few moments to clear his throat and find his voice. Even then, it comes off as a choked rasp. "H-how many people will you be inviting?"

Dean's smile falls immediately into a soft wince. "Shit, I forgot about that. There'd probably be a lot of people. It'd be folks from the station and friends from some other things I'm involved in."

What other things? It's not something that Dean has ever mentioned to him before. Now Castiel's curiosity has been aroused again and he's very tempted to switch the topic. At least that way he wouldn't have to answer the hanging question regarding his attendance. But that wouldn't be quite fair. Of course it's also not fair that Dean just dropped this into his lap out of the blue, but he deserves a proper answer – even if it's another rejection.

The problem with that, however, is that those words simply won't come. Castiel doesn't want to go, but he also doesn't _not_ want to go. He doesn't want to disappoint Dean again, but he never really decided what he would do if he was invited to another party again. Or did he? His head is spinning too much right now to even try and remember. Regardless, there is one constant.

Castiel takes a deep breath to focus himself. "I'll – I'll think about it." Which means he's going to ask Gabriel about it and try to work through the nauseous wave of party-anxiety crashing down on him.

His simple response makes Dean light up again. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He nods slowly, forcing another smile to his lips. "I _will_ think about it."

Dean bumps him with the box as he practically bounces on his feet. "That's great, Cas! If the roomies give a go ahead, I'll let you know the details. And if it's not something you wanna do, that's cool too. I know you've got that thing about parties. But I can totally work around anything that'll make you comfortable, okay? I'd love to have you there."

Clearly Castiel's body is trying to kill him. The rolling storm of nausea transforms in an instant into a cyclone of butterfly wings. At that very moment, he can't for the life of him figure out why he feels so deliriously happy that Dean actually _wants_ to invite him to things. It's left him at such a loss that he can barely verbalize his goodbyes as Dean actually heads out to his car. His arm is heavy, a dead weight that's a struggle to lift and move in a wave. He watches without actually seeing as Dean backs out of his parking spot and drives away.

Slowly, he closes the door and stares at it for a moment. Castiel's head won't stop spinning and he turns to lean against the door. There's two and a half weeks between now and New Years. That's two and a half weeks for him to get up the courage to decide on an answer. His first and immediate response is _no_ , but... Didn't he promise himself that he wouldn't refuse another of Dean's invitation? At the very least, he could make an appearance. Drop in to say hello, see Dean's home, have the count down, and then head home immediately.

Now _that's_ a viable option! He'll just have to broach that subject with Dean and then actually _go_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Friday – December 18 th, 2015_ **

There’s a Christmas carol on his lips as Dean carefully stuffs his crocheted mice with catnip. He experimented at first without any kind of lining, but little flecks and pieces kept poking out through the sides and falling out. So Dean went out and bought some really thin, breathable fabric. With a little bit of ingenuity, a pair of scissors, and some thread, he made a pocket that goes inside his little fishes.  It should work, hopefully, and it’s better than having catnip come out of every which way while Nike plays with it. If she plays with it. He really hopes that she does.

One he’s tucked the ends of his pocket under, Dean stitches the fish closed and adds it to the small pile of cat toys sitting next to him on the desk. There’s a handful of them and he’s stupidly proud of how well they turned out – which is one hundred percent _awesome_. But for being so small, they’re giving him an absolutely insane amount of anxiety. Well, not _them_ exactly. Dean knows for a fact that Cas wouldn’t be opposed to having a handful of catnip fish given to Nike. It’s the mug sitting in the back of his closet that’s giving him heart palpitations.

At this point, Dean hasn’t even opened the box to look at the mug. It’s been sitting in there for way too long and, now that the toys are done with, he probably should at least _look_ at it, right? He turns his chair to look at his closet and chews at his bottom lip. Cas is probably going to ask to hang out again this weekend and Dean is just waiting for the call. He works tomorrow, so he only has Sunday to hang out. Since it’s the weekend before Christmas, now would be the best time for giving the mug.

“Fuck it.” Dean shoves himself away from the desk and gets up. He probably should have opened the box before to make sure it wasn’t damaged. And now he’s got a whole new bit of anxiety pulsing tight in his chest. What’s he gonna do if it’s chipped or scratched or broken?

He breathes a loud sigh of relief when the mug slides out of the box pristine as possible. The black wings of the handle are glossy black that perfectly matches the fancy script spelling out Cas’s name on the side of the mug. Directly under it, in the same fancy font, is _Angel of Thursday_. The mug is absolutely perfect in every way and the more he looks at it, the more Dean likes it. God, he hopes that Cas will like it too. And he hopes he’ll get the inside joke that comes with it.

Dean takes a sheet of coloured tissue paper and lays it over the top of the mug so it’s centered. He takes his little handful of fish and mice and pushes them down on the paper until they’re technically inside the mug, making the edges of the paper poof out the top. It’s a nice little effect and he plays with it a bit before digging his smallest gift bag out of his supplies. It fits the mug perfectly and it doesn’t really shift around inside, so he’s happy. There’s no need for more tissue paper.

Since he’s going to be working tomorrow, Dean only has one other thing to do to be ready. This week he’s going to fold Cas a dinosaur origami, and he’s got the perfect paper for it. The paper is green, speckled, and the only downside is that it’s covered in glitter. He’s going to have to make sure to wash the shit out of his hands before seeing Cas on Saturday night. How much would it suck to have his anonymous gifts out him with fairy herpes? The answer; _a lot_. Because Dean’s just not ready to come clean yet. He will, soon-ish. Maybe. If there’s as good a time as any, it’ll be at the start of the new year. Or later. It all depends on Cas’s reception to the gift and, well, _him_.

With his Christmas gift finished, Dean sits down at his desk again to fold the dinosaur. He won’t be able to do it tomorrow morning like he normally does because he works. He’s going to have to drop it off stupidly early before his shift, just like he does any Saturday that he’s got a shift. Thankfully, Cas is always off shift by the time Dean gets there. Which means he leaves his origami with Jess, who is the self-proclaimed weekend Gabriel. She does all the baking on the weekend and it’s pretty damn good.

Dean likes her, actually. Jess is nice, sassy, and totally understanding about this origami thing. She’s on the same page as Tessa about it and, as far as he knows, she hasn’t said a word about the origami. In fact, Tessa said that Jess always tells Cas when she was the one to accept it. And this is all too surreal for Dean, honestly. This is the first time he’s ever gotten to know those who work at a café. It’s literally become one of those places where he can walk in and actually be welcomed by _name_. Most days, he doesn’t even need to place his own order. They all just _know_. Is he really that predictable?

He likes it, though. His life is _very_ different than it was a few months ago and he’s having a blast. It can only get better from here and Dean can’t wait for it.

*

Dean feels stiff and sore by the end of the day. After he finished with Cas’s gift and the origami, he spent the rest of the day cleaning the ever loving shit out of the house, just in case he doesn’t have too much time to do it between now and New Year’s Eve. Of course he’s going to keep on top of it on his other days off, but at least he won’t have _too_ much to do while dealing with all the mumbo-jumbo that comes with the holidays.

Now that his day is good and done with, he’s ready for goddamn bed. Doors locked, lights off, teeth brushed, toilet flushed, and he’s stripped down to his underwear. The only thing left to do is set his alarms, put his phone in the charging dock, and get under the covers. And yet, he’s hesitating because should he or should he not crank one out before going to bed? It’s been a while and he kinda feels like doing it, but also kind feels like not doing it. If he _does_ decide to do it, should he watch porn or not? It’s a difference between jerking off in bed, and jerking off at his desk.

He debates it while he parks his butt on the edge of the bed and turns his standard three alarms on. Before he can click his phone into the dock, it vibrates in his hand and sounds off with the short few dings of a text message. Dean can only think of one person who would be texting him at ten o’clock on a Friday and he’s pleased as punch to find that he’s right.

 ** _Finished!_** Cas rings his message with two full teeth smiley faces, and follows it up with a second message. **_How close are you to being done?_**

 ** _Dammit, Cas!_** Dean laughs and looks at the book on his night stand. **_Another 100 pages or so._** He really had been hoping that he’d get more read today, but he has his cleaning spree to thank for that.

Cas sends a thumbs up emoji. **_It’s really very good and I wish there was more. I’ll have to see if David Eddings wrote anything else for the series, or even in this world. I’d like to learn more about the Styrics and their Younger Gods. The Tamuli certainly gave us a new view on them, didn’t it?_**

Yeah, it had been like a slap in the face and Dean fucking _loved_ it. **_Definitely! Sarsos was a whole new side to them and Sephrenia was sassy and classy._** He adds a winking face, just because.

**_In an effort to keep from giving you any further spoilers, I’ll segue into a new topic now._ **

Dean would be actual money that this is the real reason Cas texted. Bringing up the Tamuli was just an opener. **_Oh yeah? Like what?_**

**_Like… When are you free next?_ **

He ends the message with an angel emoji and Dean doesn’t trust it in the slightest. Tomfoolery is afoot and he’s going to find out exactly what that is. On the bright side, this is the request for hanging out that he was fully expecting to get and he’s already got a smile to beat the bank.

 ** _Work tomorrow but off most of Sunday. Why? You wanna haaang?_** Oh God, he shouldn’t have added those extra a’s. Why did he do that? It looks like he’s teasing Cas or – or – No. He shouldn’t have done it and he wishes like hell that there was an abort message button.

But Cas fires back with a big ol’ smiley face. **_I would like that, yes! I managed to convince Gabriel into giving the employees gifts and we found these candy cane sleighs._** He follows his message up with a link to an image of, quite literally, a sleigh made of two candy canes and chocolates stacked on top of them. It’s topped off with a bow and everything.

 ** _Wow, those look like fun!_** And Dean can see where this is going.

 ** _Yes, they do. I look forward to putting them together on Sunday. In the evening. Well after you’re done work._** Wow, it’s like Cas isn’t trying to be subtle _at all_.

Dean snorts a laugh and quickly types back a teasing response. One without extra a’s included. **_Why Cas… Are you asking me to help?_**

Cas answers with a smiley emoji that sticks its tongue out. **_I do recall enlisting the help of a certain someone who came up with this idea in the first place, yes._**

Well, if he’s going to twist his arm about this, then Dean might as well do it. As if he would ever have said ‘no’ in the first palace. **_Okay, but for the record… I never came up with the SLEIGH idea. That was all you. One question though… Are you gonna feed me?_** A man’s gotta be fed and he likes sharing a meal with good company.

 ** _Would you like pizza again or something else?_** Cas doesn’t even try to fight it and _that_ is just one more reason why Dean likes him. **_I don’t cook often, but I suppose I could whip something up for you._**

Oh, oh, _oh_. Now that the suggestion has been put out there, Dean couldn’t possibly refuse this chance! **_I will absolutely accept payment in the form of a homemade meal by Chef Novak (the younger). Surprise me, Cas._** He ends it with a winking face again because apparently that’s how he flirts. Winking emojis and spending time together.

**_Don’t give me such a high title yet, given my limited cooking repertoire. Do you have any dietary limitations? Allergies?_ **

It’s sweet of him to ask. While he might have a slight problem with cat dander, Dean is absolutely golden in all things edible. **_Nope and Nope. I’ll eat basically anything, even vegetables. But don’t tell Sam. He’s convinced that I’m a carnivore and nothing more. It’s fun as hell to tease him about his rabbit food._** Plus he likes the attention when his family gives him a hard time about not taking part in all you can eat salad bowl night.

Cas answers with a laughing emoji. **_My lips are sealed. Would you like to come over for, say, 6:30?_**

 ** _I’ll bring my appetite!_** Dean grins and adds a thumbs up. **_Need me to bring any supplies? For food or for your crafty sleighs of holiday joy?_**

 ** _That’s alright. Gabriel is going to buy all the supplies out of his own personal account. Part of our deal for you and I putting it all together since he considers this MY idea._** Cas sends an emoji rolling it’s eyes and Dean knows he’s probably doing that on the other end of this conversation. **_On the bright side, he does agree that it would be a nice thing to do for our staff. We have so few of them and they do work so hard for us._**

That’s a hell of a point, actually. There really aren’t that many people working at the café. **_Are you going to hire anyone new anytime soon?_**

 ** _We’re considering it in the new year._** Cas adds a sighing emoji between his sentences. **_We’ve got some applications that Gabriel is weeding through, but it’s a lengthy process and we have to figure out the financials too._**

Now that’s neat. The more the merrier in Dean’s opinion. **_Awesome. Good luck with that!_** A yawn cracks his jaw and he rolls his shoulders. **_I’m heading to bed now, actually. I’ll see you twice on Sunday!_**

Cas sends a smiley face. **_Sleep well._**

Dean answers with one of his own, and one of those emojis where the face is winking and kissing a heart. It’s a stupid leap, but goddamn he’ll fucking take it. **_Have a good shift tonight!_**

He feels stupidly good about himself as he puts his phone in the charging dock. Somehow he’s both exhausted and riding an adrenaline high that he only really ever gets from talking with Cas nowadays. It’s entirely different from the ones Dean gets when he’s working or basically doing anything else. He looks towards his desk and the bag sitting on it. Guess he’ll be giving that to Cas on Sunday. It’s as good a day as any, because he’s sure as hell not going to give it during the working week and who knows if he’s going to see Cas outside of those meetings between now and Christmas.

Yeah, okay. Sunday is looking like the best day to do it. He’ll bring it and just wait for the perfect time to give it to Cas. If such a time happens, that is. And dear _God_ does Dean hope that it happens! He’s going to be thinking about it all day tomorrow, so it’s best that he find something to distract him right now so he’ll be able to actually get _some_ sleep tonight.

Which is why Dean forgoes the bed to sit at his desk and put his headphones on. His distraction is going to come in the way of some good ol’ fashioned filthy porn, and a quick rub out. He’s going to do his damnedest not to think about Cas while he does it too, because at this point they’re still _just friends_ and he doesn’t jerk off thinking about friends. That’s a personal rule of his and he’ll fucking stick to it. However, if he happens to find a porno with a dark haired, scruffy, too adorable for his own good actor in it who _might_ look like Cas if he squints enough – well, that’s gonna be chalked up to a coincidence and nothing more.

**_Saturday – December 19 th, 2015_ **

Dean glances at his watch and resists the urge to start tapping his foot like an impatient cartoon character. “C’mon, Charlie! Let’s _go_!”

She’s been dicking around in the kitchen just out of sight from the garage door and it’s getting annoying. If they don’t like in the next few minutes, he might not have the time to park at the station and run across the street to the café before his shift starts. If she makes him miss out on getting the origami there, then this’ll be the first Saturday in a long time that he’s missed on leaving his anonymous gift. And if that happens, he’s going to _kill_ Charlie.

“Coming, coming!” She comes shuffling around the corner with her backpack over her shoulder, a muffin in her hand, and a piece of toast caught between her teeth. Her hair is still loose and it’s only a matter of time before she puts it up in a ponytail. “Okay, okay. Let’s hit the road. It’s not fair that you’re rushing me outta here so early.”

Oh, please. As if she doesn’t know. Charlie’s the only person in the world who’s kept up to date on everything to do with Cas – except for the origami. He would _never_ hear the end of that teasing. It would be up to truly epic levels and Dean actually gets chills thinking about it. Okay, so maybe she doesn’t know. But it’s not that hard to _guess_.

“I wanna stop at the café first.” Dean shrugs and slaps the button to open the garage door. He takes a second to lock the door into the house itself. Even though Jo is home, he’s not taking any chances.

Charlie hums around a mouthful of toast as she gets in on the passenger side of the Impala. “Oh _my_ , are you going to be seeing your _boyfriend_?”

Yeah, of course that would be her first assumption. It’s _always_ her first assumption no matter what he does. Dean takes a swinging kick at her, but misses as she yanks her legs into the safety of the car. In response, all Dean can do is slam the door in her face and huff his way around to the driver’s side. He fires a glare at her and resolutely doesn’t say a word to her for most of the ride. Or at least until he realizes that he should probably broach the subject of having a New Year’s Eve party now before it gets a little too late for that.

“So, Charlie?” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and glances at her. “You got any plans for New Year’s Eve this year?”

“Not yet.” She shakes her head and peels the paper lining from her muffin. “But it’s going to be New Years. If we don’t work the day before, we’re going to be on call. And you know what happens when you let idiots have easy access to fireworks.”

God yeah, he knows. It’s the same for any holiday. But unlike Charlie, Dean knows for a fact that he’s working the day before. Which means he gets the night off to host the party. That’s a woo-hoo if ever he heard it, but he’s still got his name down for emergencies. If they end up needing him, then Dean will be more than ready to drop everything and head out to help.

After her first bite of the muffin, Charlie reaches over to poke him in the cheek. “ _You_ get it off, right? New Year’s Eve is yours for the taking. Both Jo and I are on call.”

Well, shit. He would’ve liked to have the both of them at the party. They’ll probably both attend, but it’s more than likely that they’ll be called out. People really are dumb when it comes to proper firework safety, and that’s the sad truth. But that’s only if they agree to let him have a party. The house might belong to Dean, but he’s not going to throw a shindig in the middle of their _shared_ space where they happen to have a lot of their own personal items.

“I know what you’re thinking, Winchester. You can’t hide it from me.” She pokes him in the cheek again and Dean resists the urge to slap her hand away. “You want to throw a party and it’s going to be a party that Jo and I can’t drink during. How right am I?”

Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel and bites his tongue. But that’s answer enough for her and Charlie laughs her way through the rest of her muffin. “If you get Jo to agree to it, then I’m game too.”

“ _Awesome!_ ” He doesn’t hold back from fist pumping the air and starting to drum the steering wheel with the palms of his hands. “I promise that it’s just gonna be some friends and maybe some family. Nothing crazy huge. You know how we do.”

She bobs her head and crinkles up the muffin wrapper. “Does that mean you’re going to invite your parents? Are you gonna be one of _those_ party throwers?”

Normally, he kinda is. Mom and Dad always decline because they don’t want to be seen as the parents who intrude on their kids’ social lives, but they still like to know that Dean wants them around. Plus, New Year’s Eve is just _way_ too late for those old fogies. “Nah, they have a running tradition of being in bed by ten o’clock. They don’t want to ruin my fun either.”

Charlie hums and Dean doesn’t need to be looking at her to know the kind of look she’s slanting his way. “Are you talking the kind of fun that means there’s going to be some stranger or strangess in my house on New Year’s Day?”

“Okay. One; _strangess_ isn’t a word.” He throws a hand out to slap her in the shoulder, adding a frown to it. “And B… No, probably not. To set the record straight here, I’m not planning on letting _anyone_ sleep over. If they’re drunk, I’m dumping them in a taxi or driving their asses home myself.” Because he’s not going to do any drinking just in case they need his help.

“Aw, not even a certain –” Dean doesn’t let her finish that sentence, cutting it short with another smack to the shoulder and an even darker frown. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You can’t blame me for being curious.”

That doesn’t do anything ease his scowl. “Just text Jo and ask her if I can host a party.”

She sighs and pulls her phone out of her backpack. “I’m on it, but only because I love you so much.”

“Damn right you do.” Dean catches her by the head and pulls her close enough to kiss the top of her head. She shoves him back with a laugh and Dean flashes a grin at her. “Love you too, short stack.”

“Bite me.”

The mood in the car is considerably lighter by the time they reach the firehouse. Dean parks in his usual spot, but heads off down the street to the cross walk instead of following Charlie inside. There’s probably going to be all manner of teasing for him when he gets back, but it’s worth it to keep up this tradition of his. Or, at least, it’ll be worth it if it ever pans out. Y’know what? No. Even if it doesn’t, he still likes leaving these for Cas and Dean hopes that he’ll be there when he figures out that it’s him.

For nearly eight o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, there really aren’t that many people in the café. Jess is working on the counter on her own, smoothly processing the short line standing between Dean and her. The next person to come in won’t be for another hour yet and that’s gonna be Sam. Far as Dean knows, Jess doesn’t have any problems being on her own this early. She’s admitted that at this point most of her baking is done and it’s just the decorating for some of the fancier stuff that’ll be put out later in the day that she needs to do.

Honestly, it’s more than Dean cares to wrap his head around. He doesn’t dare to pretend that he understands the ins and outs of how the café gets by with so few employees. But he does look forward to getting to know any new one that get hired. It really does feel really awesome to be on a first name, know on sight, basis with these people. There’s just something totally special about it that he can’t even really put his finger on.

Jess is already giving him that big smile of hers by the time he reaches the counter. “Well, hello older brother! How’s it hanging this fine morning?”

“Not too bad.” Dean dips his head in greeting and slides the dinosaur across the counter folded between a twenty dollar bill. “Just dropping something off, and picking up a box of –” He glances at the display case. “– Oh, what the hell. Hit me with a box of eight croissants and black coffee.” No need for the espresso this early in the morning. That’s a late night thing only.

She’s all kinds of subtle as she separates the dinosaur from the money and puts them in separate spots inside the cash drawer. The less subtle bit is when Jess winks as she hands him in the change. “Sam is still coming in on time, right? I’d hate to be left high and dry on a Saturday morning.”

“He should be in on time far as I know.” He shrugs and steps aside for the next person in line to get up close to the counter. “I don’t live with him, but he’s never been late for work before – far as I know.”

“Gotta agree with you there.” Jess slides him a medium coffee before tending to the dwindling supply of croissants. “He’s pretty punctual. Especially on the weekends.”

Seriously? That’s honestly surprising to hear. Dean even laughs at it. “Sammy was always a huge bitch to wake up in the morning for school. Which is pretty funny given how much he loved it. He’s a _super_ huge nerd, if you haven’t noticed already.”

Jess hums and closes the box. “Okay, but was that before or _after_ he discovered the miraculous power of the java bean?”

“Oh, _long_ before!” Dean’s grin stretches wide enough to make his cheeks hurt.

“And there we go.” Jess laughs to herself and hands the box over. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Hero?”

He shakes his head and takes a couple steps back to start walking away. “Just your silence on certain things. Have a good day!”

“Always!”

There’s a bounce in his step and a whistle on Dean’s lips as he heads off to work. If he’s lucky, today is going to be as good as this morning has gone so far.

_** ** _

**_Sunday – December 20 th, 2015_ **

Castiel guides the shopping cart with one hand while looking at the screen of his phone. He’s zoomed in on the picture of the sleighs he had found online to get a good luck at the treats used. The candy canes are obvious, but it looks like a KitKat bar has been glued on top of them. And various chocolates are stacked on top of it in a right angle pyramid. There are three different colours of chocolates and they’re wrapping looks like little presents. If he’s lucky, Shaw’s Grocery will have them. Hershey’s is a popular brand of chocolate, so he can _hope_ that they’re here.

“Stop looking at your phone, Cassie, and pay attention to me.” Gabriel purposefully bumps into his side, even going so far as to loop their arms together.

“No. This is your punishment for making me come along when I didn’t have to.” He already texted the picture to Gabriel, thus making it absolutely pointless for him to be here.

Gabriel sighs loudly and actually takes the phone out of Castiel’s hand. “I told you; since you picked the sleighs, _you_ have to decide what they’re made of. It only makes sense that you’re.” He scoffs again and actually has the audacity to put Castiel’s phone in his back pocket for him. “You know better than anyone how much I hate having to describe things to you over the phone, and that’s exactly what I’ll have to do when your fancy present chocolate ends up not being here.”

“All you would have had to do is take a picture of the chocolate section and send it to me.” Castiel huffs and frees his arm from Gabriel’s grip. “And don’t you dare try and guilt me by saying I don’t want to hang out with you. It’s hard to find time when I’m _not_ hanging out with you.”

“You’re just grumpy that we’re running a little late.”

The accusation is not far from the mark actually and Castiel increases his pace towards the candy aisle. “Dean is going to be at the café in a few hours and I still need to cook dinner.” Those ingredients are sitting in the cart right now, plus a few bags of chips for snacks, and now all he needs are the chocolates to finish their purchase off.

Gabriel snorts and keeps pace despite his shorter legs. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’ll be home soon enough.” He’s close enough that he manages to jokingly jostle him with an elbow. “It’s _really_ sweet that you’re going to cook for him, you know!”

Oh there’s more than just _words_ sitting in Gabriel’s voice and Castiel does _not_ like it. He knows what he’s trying to say and he doesn’t want to hear it, because it’s all that Gabriel’s been talking about since he and Dean started spending more time together. To combat this conversation, Castiel turns the cart sharply and heads down one aisle too soon.

“It was part of the deal for getting him to help me, and you know it.” He holds up his hand to cut off any intervention Gabriel might have. “And no, I’m not nervous. Leave the topic alone before I turn this cart around and run you over.”

By some miracle, silence follows him right to the candy aisle. Of course Gabriel can’t hold his tongue for too long. By the time they find the candy canes, he’s reached his breaking point. “Dinner _and_ crafts, Cassie? That’s quite the _date_ wouldn’t you say?”

And there it is. It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep himself from turning around and actually punching Gabriel in the face to make him stop. What if someone they know heard that? This town isn’t _that_ big. It’s entirely possible that gossip like that could get back to Dean. Castiel would be absolutely mortified if that happened. A rumour like that might actually scare Dean away and if Gabriel somehow costs Castiel his only friend, he might very well go nuclear.

The moment they reach the candy aisle, it’s like a switch is flicked. Gabriel’s attention is suddenly very much elsewhere as he starts picking through the various bags of candy to pull down his favourites. He already has whole _bowls_ of lollipops, lifesavers, skittles, and God knows what else in his bedroom – though whether or not they’re still full is a different matter. It’s an ant’s Heaven in there, and it’s a miracle that they don’t have an infestation already.

While Gabriel continues on his path towards what is sure to be diabetes, Castiel pulls up the picture of the candy cane sleighs again. First and foremost, he needs the candy canes. They’re the key part that makes this a _sleigh_. Thankfully, every store can be counted on to have those at this time of year, and the first box he finds has a count of twelve. How many does he need again? Two per sleigh for – oh, how many employees do they have again? He counts them off on his fingers; Sam, Jess, Anna, Balthazar, Tessa, and Kevin. Six. Okay, that’s good. One box of candy canes will be a perfect amount. Castiel puts two in the cart, just in case any breaks or Gabriel gets a craving for it.

He’s rather happy with these candy canes. They’re decently sized and should be sturdy enough for this project. And a full sized KitKat will work well too. Those are next on his list and he adds seven of them to his cart – the extra being for his own snacking purposes later. Castiel isn’t always made of stone. He gets urges for a sugar fix sometimes too. In this case, it’s going to be his favourite chocolate bar; the KitKat.

To his great delight, Shaw’s apparently _does_ stock bags of the Hershey’s present wrapped chocolates. Unfortunately, they only have two of the various colours. Well, that’s fine. He can still work with that. All he’ll need to do is alternate colours and still make it look amazing. Although he’s still going to need bows and ribbons. If he’s lucky, Shaw’s might have some here. If they don’t, he’ll have to get it somewhere else since those are things he and Gabriel usually have no need for at home – especially considering how little actual storage space they have.

Castiel doesn’t bother with math as he selects the bags of chocolates. After adding at least three of each to the cart, Gabriel intervenes. “Are you sure you’re going to have enough?”

“You just _had_ to say that, didn’t you?” Because now he needs to do math. After a quick count, he determines that he only needs twenty-four of one colour and eighteen of the other. “I have more than enough with leftovers to spare. Which means you can have only _one_ from each bag. I have to account for if Dean or I make any mistakes.”

“You’re bribing me, Cassie?” Gabriel laughs and falls into step as Castiel starts pushing the cart again, moving away from the candy before they end up with a dozen other candies added to it.

He didn’t intend for his kindness to be a bribe, but now that it’s been brought to his attention, perhaps he should. “Sure, okay. They’re your bribe to leave Dean and me alone while we’re hanging out.”

This is going to be the first time that Gabriel is home while Dean is over. Granted there haven’t been many of those times to start with, but still. Castiel can already feel how angry he’ll undoubtedly feel in the future from the level of teasing that will happen no matter how he tries to stop it. Ever since Gabriel found out what Castiel is making for dinner, he absolutely _insisted_ on being home with it too. That’s his fault for choosing one of his brother’s favourite meals.

“I’ll be in my bedroom with my laptop. I promise.” Gabriel walks ahead and turns so Castiel can see him make a cross over his heart. “You won’t even know that I’m there.”

Hah. Like he would ever believe that. “I don’t trust you in the slightest.”

“That hurts me, Cassie.” He staggers back a step with his hand to his chest. “You’re just saying that to be hurtful. Which is why I’m going to take great joy in pointing this out…”

Castiel pauses, bringing the cart up short. “What is it?”

“How are you going to be keeping your little project together, hm?”

Oh, is that all? Gabriel almost had him worried for a moment there. “With a hot glue gun. That’s what the instructional video said to use.”

Gabriel tilts his head and that smug smile is _not_ supposed to be there. “Hey, genius… We don’t have one of those and I doubt that this _grocery_ store sells one.”

That – that is a very good point and Castiel groans unhappily. He’d been so focused on getting the candies and decorations that he hadn’t paid too much attention to the rest. Now he needs to think quickly and problem solve. “Can you go see if they offer bows or ribbons in any of the aisles? I need to make a quick phone call.”

“Aye, aye!” Laughing, Gabriel salutes him and turns away to keep going while Castiel pulls the cart over to the side of an aisle to be out of the way.

There are so few contacts in Castiel’s phone that he doesn’t even need to scroll to find Dean’s contact information. It takes four rings before Dean picks up. “Hullo?” He sounds bleary and his words slurred.

“Did I wake you?” Castiel would feel bad if it wasn’t already after half past four in the afternoon.

“Nah, s’fine.” Dean yawns and sounds clearer by the syllable. “You only got me up, like, ten minutes before my alarm was supposed to. What’s up, buttercup?

Castiel rolls his eyes and the cheap rhyme and leans on the push bar of the car. “You wouldn’t happen to have a hot glue gun, would you? I just realized we don’t have one and we need it for the sleighs. Otherwise we’re putting them together with double sided tape.” And he would rather not, because that would just look terrible.

“Well, I got the tape if we need it, but I don’t personally have a glue gun.”

With a short swear muttered under his breath, Castiel looks down at the cart. Most of what he grabbed here is useless if they don’t have what they need to put it together. “Okay – okay. Where would I get one if I had to buy it before dinner?”

Dean hums and muffles another yawn. “Probably at the Walmart in Berlin. Depending on traffic, it’s only something like ten minutes from the café.”

“If that’s what I need to do, then I’ll do it.” He sighs and reaches up to adjust his glasses now after they slid down his nose. “Or I’ll send Gabriel so I can get started on dinner before you get there.” That leaves him just a little over an hour and a half. The longest thing about preparing dinner is browning the meat before putting it together with the other ingredients and baking them for fifteen to twenty minutes.

“Sounds good to me.” Dean laughs and huffs what could be another yawn. “If you need the tape, just text me. Or if you’re running late too. I can come over whenever you’re ready. It’s no rush.”

That does give him a bit of a sense of relief and Castiel sighs softly. “Thank you, Dean. I’ll be sure to keep you informed of the situation.”

Gabriel returns from his foray into the rest of the store just as Castiel is putting his phone away. His hands are disappointingly empty. “Sorry, Cassie. It’s a no go on the bows and ribbons. What’s your plan now, huh?”

“The plan is to kick myself for not getting all of these things yesterday.” He groans and pushes his glasses up so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. “And I’m going to blame you for not doing this on your own earlier, or yesterday. If you weren’t being so _lazy_.”

Before Gabriel can open his mouth to complain or defend himself, Castiel starts walking away to head for the cash register. “Come along now. We need to go to Walmart and find a glue gun.”

“ _What_?” With a start, Gabriel follows after him; jogging to catch up to his side and points at the contents of their cart. “We have _spoilable_ things in here. Think about my ice-cream!”

That’s an easy solution, although they really should have grabbed that _after_ everything else and on their way to the register. “We’ll stop at the café and drop it off before we continue to Walmart.” There’s nothing to argument about here. They _have_ to go to Walmart.

Gabriel groans loudly and Castiel shoots him a dark frown. “It’s either that or you can stay home. I’ll go out on my own.” It might not be the best option, but it’s better than listening to a seemingly endless stream of whining. But of course, he’s just being facetious.

A little light of hope fills Gabriel’s eyes. “Really?”

Castiel considers it briefly before shaking his head. “No, not _really_. The Walmart is in Berlin and your detection spells don’t go that far. Either we’re going together or _you’re_ going alone. Preferably alone, since I have dinner to prepare.”

“You’re killing me here, Cassie. You really are.” With another whine and a truly epic pout, Gabriel cuts in front of the car so that he gets into line first and can start unloading it onto the conveyer belt. “I’ll do it for the sake of the food, but dinner damn well better be ready by the time I get back.”

“I can’t make that promise.” He rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “It all depends on how long you take to get all the things from the list that I’m going to be texting you.”

It’s not exactly a very _long_ list, but it still earns him an annoyed frown. “You better appreciate this.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.”

Gabriel puffs up slightly and leans over the back of the cart, putting a hand to his ear. “Who’s the best big brother in the word?”

Lord have mercy, is he really doing this? Castiel sighs softly and shakes his head. “You are.”

But of course that’s all subjective. Gabriel does what he can and he truly is the best big brother that he can be given the situation they’ve been dealt in their lives. Quite honestly speaking, Castiel couldn’t have possibly asked for a better big brother

*

Despite their usual butting heads, Gabriel is absolutely regaled by Dean and the story he’s currently telling. In fact, he’s even currently sitting with a fork stopped halfway to his mouth, his eyes on Dean while he animatedly details about the time when Sam thought he was Superman and jumped off the roof in an attempt to fly.

“In hindsight, I should have stopped him.” Dean tilts his head back with a laugh. “But I was young and stupid too. Didn’t stop to think for a second that anything bad might happen – until he jumped and broke his arm in two places. And then the babysitter is waking up to a crying Superman _and_ a crying Batman because I was scared as hell at how much trouble I’d be in for letting him jump.”

Castiel coughs a laugh, quickly covering his mouth so he doesn’t accidentally spit out any of his salad. “Batman? I would have liked to see that.”

“One day you might. Mom has pictures and she _loves_ showing them off.” He winks and pauses in his story to take another few bites of his meal.

That break gives Gabriel the chance to finally take the food from his fork. Unfortunately, he apparently has no sense of manners because he starts speaking with his mouth full. “Well, what happened next? What did the babysitter do?”

“She freaked the hell out.” Dean grins before washing his meal down with a quick drink. “I think she started crying too before she drove us to the hospital. If I had known where it was, I would’ve taken Sam on the handles of my bike on my own instead of waiting for her to wake up and figure herself out.”

Gabriel nods along as if he’s agreeing, like he would have done the same if he was in their situation. Although it never would have happened. Their father was very attentive even while he was working from home. And even when Castiel’s wings weren’t developed enough to fly, he was still able to glide, more or less. He never actually did, despite his penchant for climbing trees as a child. Even if he ever _did_ have the urge to try flying, Gabriel has always been a very protective big brother. He would never have allowed Castiel to jump from any great height.

“Okay, but what about your parents?” Gabriel waves his fork at Dean. “How freaked out where they when you told them about it?”

Dean shrugs and shakes his head. “Called them from the hospital. There wasn’t much else we could do. Sam was in too much pain to wait around at the house to call our parents, and the babysitter didn’t have a cell phone. This was _long_ before it became normal for kids to have cell phones too.”

“You’re not _that_ old.”

“Early twenties is old enough. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He sticks his tongue out and Gabriel fakes a gasp.

Castiel tries to hide his laughter with a cough, as if he were clearing his throat. It doesn’t go unnoticed and Gabriel kicks him squarely in the shin. “Hey, Chuckles. Pass the salad. Us _old fogies_ gotta keep up the veggie intake to stay healthy.”

“Since when?” Castiel hands the salad bowl across the table. “An extra serving of greens isn’t going to make up for that candy you ate earlier.”

It most definitely didn’t escape his attention that one of the bags of candies that Gabriel bought today didn’t make it in from the car. In fact, it went along with him to Walmart. Whether or not the candy is actually still in the car is another matter altogether. Castiel suspects that it never made it back home. Gabriel’s addiction to sugar can sometimes be that pad.

Gabriel groans and wave the salad tongs at him. “I only ate _one_ of those chocolate bars from the bag, okay? The rest are downstairs for the employees to snack on, so stop hounding me about it.”

“For now.”

“Aw, he’s just worried about your health.” Dean wipes under his eye, as if he were wiping away a tear. His smile says otherwise. “It’s so sweet how you two fight like an old married couple.”

Both of them wrinkle their noses at the comment. Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t fool yourself, Dean. He bought more candy for himself than what I picked out for the sleighs.”

“Y’know, I’m not even surprised that you’ve got a sweet tooth.” Dean looks pointedly at Gabriel and shakes his head before turning his attention to Castiel. “But what about you, Cas? Are you a sweet or savoury kind of guy?”

There’s only one answer to that. “Salty.” Castiel will always pick a bag of chips or bowl of popcorn over a sugar overdose any day.

“I can respect that.” He grins and nods in agreement before taking another bite of his dinner. Dean follows it with a happy humming noise – one that he’s made after every other bite since they sat down to eat. “Seriously, Cas. This is _awesome_. What is it again?”

“The recipe calls it a _Sloppy Joe Bake_.” Castiel shrugs and ducks his head, pleased with the compliment no matter how many times he gets one. “It’s just ground beef, a packet of Sloppy Joe seasoning, tomato paste, cheese, and pancake batter.”

“Well it’s downright _delicious_.” To emphasize his point, Dean licks his fork and polishes off the serving on his plate. “I definitely need to add it to my recipe book. I know a lot of people who would _love_ this.”

The food is absolutely not the cause behind the too warm feeling settled in Castiel’s chest. “Thank you. I’ll text you a copy of the recipe later. Would you like seconds?”

Dean’s enthusiasm is beyond touching as he holds his plate out. “Sweet Jesus, yes, please!”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and carefully pushes the salad bowl in Dean’s direction. “You want some green to go with your meet there, champ?”

The look on Dean’s face is all the response needed. His whole face scrunches up as if he had taken a bite of a lemon. Regardless, he still takes the tongs in hand. “Okay, but only so you don’t nag me to eat more veggies like my family does.”

“Oh my God. What are you; eight?”

“See, Cas?” Dean’s bottom lip sticks out in a pout as he takes his plate back, but it breaks into a grin moments later. “I told you he’d just be mean to me all night.”

This isn’t the first time Gabriel has outright teased him since they sat down to eat and Castiel sighs. He really doesn’t want to have to parent these two, but he will if he has to. “Gabriel, don’t be a bother.”

“I’m not _bothering_ him.” He defends while quickly shoving salad into his mouth. “I just think it’s dumb that he’s twenty-something and not eating his veggies like a good role model should be.”

“Excuse me, but I _do_ eat my veggies.” Dean huffs and points at the salad he scoops onto his plate. “And I like them in hamburgers, wraps, tacos, shepherd pies, and mixed into things. I just don’t like them on their own, or when they’re the _only_ thing I’m eating. You’ll never catch me eating _just_ a salad.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and licks dressing off his lips. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy. But I’m not gonna believe you until you stop making a _yuck_ face whenever you eat it.”

Okay, that’s enough. Castiel puts his own second serving down on the table sharply. “Gabriel, I _will_ send you to your room without dessert if you keep teasing Dean.”

He gives him his hardest warning look, though it can’t be very effective since there’s a smile tugging at his lips. It’s hard to be upset when he’s enjoying this so much. While Dean and Gabriel butt heads a lot, the atmosphere throughout the dinner has been extremely pleasant. So nice, in fact, that Castiel would really like to do this again. Maybe sometime soon, even – if the holidays don’t get in the way of it. Though, he does have to consider whether or not it would be weird for him to invite Dean over every weekend for dinner and games.

The topic of conversation turns to the standard fare about the weather and work. It only stays on that for how long it takes Gabriel to polish off his plate. After he rinses it off in the sink and puts it in the dishwasher, he sits back down and folds his hands on the table. “So, Dean. Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

Dean shrugs and swallows. “It’s just the usual family stuff. I work Christmas Day so we’re going to be doing everything on Christmas Eve. You two?” He looks between Castiel and Gabriel, eyes curious while he continues digging into the _Sloppy Joe Bake_.

Castiel shares a look with Gabriel. “Nothing that I know of. I suppose we’ll do gifts when I wake up Friday evening? Otherwise Gabriel is already on shift when I finish work in the morning.”

“You’re not going to shut down for the holidays?” He lowers his fork and looks between them again.

Gabriel shakes his head. “Nah, but we do have a skeleton shift for it. Just one person working at a time. If things get hairy, they can call me down while the sun is up, and Cas is working when the sun is down, so it’s no big deal there.”

“It’s nice that you guys have it all figured out.” Dean nods along pausing every sentence to eat. “Are you going to make any special holiday themed treats for the café?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

They’ve touched on a topic that Gabriel could talk about for hours and he leans forward excitedly to launch into describing exactly what kind of treats he’s going to make this week. Miraculously, Dean actually listens attentively. Castiel admires him for it. Even though Gabriel gets on Dean’s nerves sometimes, they’re still getting along moderately well and it makes Castiel feel all warm and tingly from his lungs to his gut.

He can’t exactly put his finger on _why_ , but it’s been very important to him from the very beginning of his friendship that Dean and Gabriel get along. If he _had_ to come up with an answer, it would likely be because Dean is his first friend. Sometimes Gabriel can have an attitude and Castiel doesn’t want that to ruin his friendship. Thankfully that doesn’t seem to be much of a problem right now and Castiel is _very_ happy with that.

Is it mean of him to hope that Gabriel will leave them alone after they have dessert? An ugly, selfish-like feeling has been building up whenever he spends time with Dean. Castiel doesn’t really want to _share_ the time that he and Dean are together. He wants them to be _alone_ because – And that’s where his answers come to an end. All Castiel knows is that he feels like this and it’s all entirely new to him. Is it normal to feel like this when one makes a new friend? Or is it because he hasn’t had one in an exceptionally long time and he doesn’t know what’s right anyone?

Whatever the case may be, Castiel would _hate_ to be one of those friends who monopolizes his friend completely. It’s not fair to Dean or any of the other people in his life. He has other friends and family that require his attention and Dean needs to share his time evenly with all of them. Castiel is going to have to be careful to make sure that doesn’t try to dominate all of Dean’s time while he’s feeling his way through this friendship.

*

Castiel fumbles slightly as he searches through the freezer. The moment his fingers find the Ziploc bag with a frozen sponge inside. He brings that back to the table and hands it to Dean. “Here, put this on it.”

With a hiss, Dean places the bagged sponge against the side of his index finger. He throws a glare at the glue gun, going so far as to stick his tongue out at it. “God _damn_ that thing gets _hot_.”

“Technically speaking, we’ve got it on the lowest possible heat setting.”

“And it _burned_ me!” Dean holds up both his hands and shakes them at him slightly.

It takes some effort, but Castiel manages to keep himself from laughing. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew that we were supposed to glue the candy canes, not our _fingers_.”

Dean’s nose scrunches adorably and turns his frown on the line of finished sleighs sitting on the counter. “So sue me, I missed. I might look it, but I’m not perfect.”

There’s only one other sleigh to finish and it’s sitting on the table next to Dean. Castiel can’t understand how he could have done two whole sleighs without issue and then mess up on the _third_. At least they have Gabriel here. He’s currently sitting in his bedroom mixing up some kind of magical paste that will help to speed the healing. Although he did have to be coerced into going back to do it after he came out of his room at the commotion. He laughed _a lot_ when he found Castiel holding Dean’s hand in the sink to cool the wound and get the glue off his finger.

Castiel sits down next to him and holds his hand out. “Let me see it again.”

“Just let the sponge do its trick first.” Dean tucks his hand against his chest and leans away slightly. “You should just finish the one that I fucked up.”

God have mercy, but Dean really is absolutely adorable when he’s embarrassed. He hasn’t stopped blushing since the accident and now he’s sulking. Is it weird that Castiel finds it cute? Or that he has a rising urge to do everything he can to make Dean feel better right now? Is that a side effect of becoming more comfortable around him?

That’s part of the reason why Castiel is rather proud of himself for having zero hesitation about grabbing Dean’s hand to drag him over to the sink the moment the swearing started. His back had been turned at that point in time. Castiel had been bending over to pick up some of the garbage left over from their crafts. He’d crinkled up wrappers and thrown them on the ground for Nike to play with while they were working. Since Dean had been starting on the last sleigh, Castiel had figured that it would be fine for him to start cleaning up.

In hindsight, he should have been watching. If he had been paying attention, then maybe Dean never would have ended up hurt. Though it really is weird that it happened in the first place. Dean was so very good at using the glue gun before that. His hand had been steadier than Castiel’s too. The fact that he messed up really make no sense. Something must have distracted him, but what could it have been? Castiel ponders on that while he works together to put together the final sleigh.

He’s just wrapping up when Gabriel walks in with a mortar in hand with a vaguely purple paste sitting in the well. “Okay, prissy-pants. Let me see your booboo.”

Dean stares at it with nothing but suspicion in his eyes. He shrinks away as Gabriel pulls up another chair next to him. “What in the hell is _that_?”

“Magic, _duh_.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. “Let me see your war wound. This mush is going to make all the ouchies go bye-bye. If you want someone to vouch for it, ask Cassie. I know how to make this _long_ before I took up actually learning magic because _someone_ liked climbing trees when he was kid. He’d get scraped to hell and back again getting up there and then falling back down.”

The irony of that statement is utterly lost on Dean, but Castiel still rolls his eyes as he adds the final sleigh to the rest of the lineup on the counter. His wings weren’t fully grown when he was in his climbing stage, but he never _fell_ out of a tree. Their father would always fly up and get him, despite how they weren’t supposed to be flying even though they were so far out of town. There may be plenty of other flying Creatures in this world that they could have been mistaken for, but they still didn’t want to accidentally tip anyone off.

“Yes, I can confirm that it does work rather well.” Castiel pats Dean on the shoulder as he takes his seat again. “You should let him do it. I promise that I wouldn’t ask you to try anything dangerous.”

But even his assurances don’t seem to do the job. Dean continues to look suspicious long enough that Gabriel gives up and shoves the mortar into Castiel’s hands. “Here. _You_ do it.”

Castiel is a little startled, but Dean doesn’t look half as distrusting as he did moments ago. Gabriel gives them both an exasperated look before he pushes away from the table and heads off to his bedroom again. He does pause at the corner to stop and look back, this time his expression is expectant. He even crosses his arms as he leans against the wall, waiting.

After a moment or two, it occurs to Castiel that some thanks are in order. “Thank you, Gabriel. I’ll take care of things from here.”

That seems to be satisfactory, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting for something, but Castiel doesn’t care what it might be. He now turns his attention to Dean and he holds out the mortar so the paste can be properly inspected. “Please trust me when I say that this will help. It takes the pain away almost immediately and it speeds the healing process. Your finger will be better for it.”

Dean narrows his eyes, but he does put the sponge aside and hold out his hand. That’s certainly something and Castiel puts the bowl down so he can take Dean’s hand in his. The welt running along the side of Dean’s index finger certainly looks like it hurts. For a moment, he has an overwhelming urge to kiss it just like his mother used to do for him whenever he hurt himself. Castiel pointedly ignores that feeling and uses one of his fingers to spread the paste over the welt, careful to do it gently.

The moment the paste touches his skin, Dean hisses and bites his bottom lip. His arm tenses, but he makes no move to pull his hand away. He does, however, go bright red in the face. Castiel only notices when he looks up over the top of his glasses to check on him. Is it a reaction to the pain? He’s trying to be as gentle as he can be, but applying the paste is the worst part. As soon as he’s done, the pain will be numbed soon enough.

When he’s finished, Castiel ducks his head to carefully blow at the paste and help it dry. Satisfied, he sits back again. “There you go. If you leave the past on until it flakes off, it should be mostly healed by then. I’m sure we have some gauze or bandages we could wrap it with, if you’d like?”

“N-no, no. That’s okay.” Dean shakes his head and holds his hand to his chest again. “This is more than enough. Thank you.”

“I’m not really the one you should be thanking.” Castiel tilts his head towards Gabriel.

Dean nods in agreement and turns. “Thanks. This feels better already.”

Gabriel is smiling and it is _not_ a nice smile. It is, but it isn’t. There’s something knowing behind that grin and Castiel doesn’t like it on an instinctual level. Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows and puts his hands in his pockets as he takes a step back into the hallway. “I’m heading to bed now, so you kids better not get _too_ loud, okay?”

Another blush floods Dean’s face and he looks away sharply. He mumbles something under his breath, but Castiel doesn’t catch what it is. Instead, he checks the time on the microwave. It’s showing that it’s just after nine o’clock. Since Dean finished work at eight o’clock this morning, and he slept half the day away, will he be awake enough to stay longer? Castiel would certainly like it if he did. He even brought a few games up from downstairs – just in case. There’s _Battleship_ , _Snakes & Ladders_, and _Connect Four_. None of them have anything to do with rearranging letters, and Castiel figures Dean will enjoy those better than Scrabble or Boggle.

There’s silence in the kitchen for a few moments after Gabriel’s bedroom door closes, but Dean eventually clears his throat to break it. “So – uh – d’you have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Not particularly.” Castiel stands up and takes the mortar and sponge to the sink. He’ll deal with cleaning them up later. “If you’re not too tired, you’re welcome to stay longer. I have a few other games we could play, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, definitely! I’d love that.” Dean lights up with a bright smile that sends a surprising bolt of heat through Castiel’s chest. It’s the kind of heat that makes him feel like he might very well blush himself.

He turns to pull the games down from above the fridge, hiding his face momentarily just in case one _does_ occur. “I promise that none of them are words games.”

Laughing, Dean wipes fake sweat from his brow. “Thank God! My bruised ego wouldn’t be able to take another crushing defeat.”

Castiel puts the games out on the table and spreads them out for Dean to see. “Are these acceptable? I promise that I’ll try not to win by a landslide for all of them.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He laughs and taps the box for Battleships. “Let’s go with this one first.”

It’s an acceptable choice and Castiel puts the other ones aside. The box has two containers in them. One for Dean, and one for him. Each one has covered sections where the pegs and the boats are kept next to the battle grids. By the time he has both containers opened and set out, Nike has made herself known again by taking up residence in Dean’s lap.

While his sore hand rests awkwardly on the table, Dean pets her with the other. She looks plenty happy and purrs loudly. “Y’know, I was never really a cat person before, but she’s totally won me over.”

“She does seem to have that effect on people, doesn’t she?” He knows because he fell for her in those first few moments when he gave her fish on the sidewalk. “I think it’s because she’s so cute and fluffy. It breaks down your defenses faster than you might think.”

Dean snorts a laugh and switches to use the side of his bad hand to do the petting. He needs his good hand, his _dominant_ hand, to start putting out his battleships. Castiel sits opposite him at the table so neither of them will be tempted to cheat. As soon as they’re both set up, Dean starts the game by missing Castiel’s air carrier by one peg. If that’s any indication to how the rest of the game will go, then he’s rather looking forward to it.

It’s a close came in the end, and Castiel wins entirely by chance as they’re both down to their final ships. He was down to only two areas where Dean’s last ship could have been, and he finds it purely by using _eenie meenie miney mo_. On the bright side, Dean doesn’t seem to mind losing. In fact, he even holds out his hand in a display of good sportsmanship and they shake on it. He’s smiling, happy, and appears to be having plenty of fun.

They move on to playing _Connect Four_ next and that games goes much better for Dean. He wins three of the four games because, as he explains it, Dean is a _pro_ at kicking ass with this game. While Castiel is rather impressed at how strong a contender he was at it, he doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Dean that he may have let him win most of those game. It’s just that strategy and word games are his forte. Luck based games are where he’s more likely to fail. As is the case when they finally move on to _Snakes and Ladders_.

After four games and two wins each, they agree to a draw. And again, Dean offers his hand to shake. He’s done it after every game and he grins like a fool each time. Castiel has no idea _why_ but this hand shaking thing most certainly wasn’t present when they played previously played Scrabble together. Has something changed or is Dean just being a good sport now that he’s actually _winning_ at games?

Castiel keeps the question to himself for the rest of the night. He doesn’t even ask it when they pack everything up and Dean stands to put on his coat. It’s rather difficult given how high his curiosity runs, especially when he catches sight of the bag Dean brought with him. The bag has been covered by Dean’s jacket on the coat rack since he got here and he’s made no mention of it since. It’s obviously a gift given the colour of the bag and the tissue paper sticking out the top, but Castiel wants to know who it’s for and what might be in it. Obviously it’s something that Dean didn’t want to leave in the car, but what could it possibly _be_?

With the games in hand, Castiel follows Dean downstairs with the intention of seeing him out and putting the games away. He doesn’t expect to be stopped at the bottom of the stairs as Dean turns on the last step.

“Here, I’ll swap you.” Dean holds out the bag with one hand and gestures for the games with the other.

Oh dear God. Is the gift for _him_? Castiel is in such shock that he makes no effort to stop Dean from taking the boxes or from putting the bag in his hands. “What is this?”

A blush rises in Dean’s ears and he suddenly becomes very much unable to look Castiel in the eyes. With his gaze firmly fixed on the floor, he shrugs and turns away. “It’s just – y’know – a Christmas gift. Figured I’d give it to you tonight since I’ll be on shift when I see you on Christmas and everything. So, yeah. Just – uh – Merry Christmas and see you later.”

If he thinks for even a moment that Castiel is going to let him escape right now, then Dean is sorely mistaken. He grabs him by the shoulder before Dean even makes it through the door into the rest of the café. “Dean, I can’t accept this.”

Dean doesn’t turn around, but his shoulders hunch slightly under Castiel’s hand. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”

“I mean–” This is more difficult than he thought and he doesn’t even know how to sort through the sudden riot of emotion rising in his chest. Castiel wasn’t prepared for this. On one hand he’s happy to have received a gift – his first gift from a non-family member in _ages_ , but on the other hand he’s unhappy that a gift exchange wasn’t discussed beforehand. Is this normal between friends? Do they just _surprise_ each other with gifts? Or is he _supposed_ to give Dean something for the holidays?

Castiel lets go of Dean’s shoulder and takes a step back. “I didn’t get _you_ anything. I wasn’t aware that we were going to exchange gifts.” If he had known, he would have been prepared. He wouldn’t be standing here awkwardly without anything to give Dean. How can he accept a gift without giving one back in return?

“It was a spur of the moment thing.” Dean shrugs and continues to not look at him. “I just saw it and thought of you and – y’know – went for it. No big deal. You don’t have to get me anything.” The red in his ears has reached the back of his neck. Is he embarrassed by this? Why? Castiel is the one who should be embarrassed for not having something to give to.

Regardless, he should be thankful. If he refused the gift, Dean might be insulted. “Please stay while I open it. Unless – Would you like me to wait until Christmas?”

That question is enough to get Dean to stop leaning towards the door. He turns just enough so he can actually look like at him. The blush has filled his face and he is most _definitely_ embarrassed. It’s adorable and eases Castiel’s nerves at receiving an unexpected gift. With Dean watching, Castiel pulls the bag open to peek inside. All he can see is tissue paper and this is definitely going to require further investigating. He steps over to the work top and pulls all the tissue paper out. It immediately scatters mice and fish across the table and he scrambles to keep them from rolling to the floor.

Each toy is a few inches long and Castiel and at least one wide. He turns one of them over in his hand. They’re colourful, knitted, and very cute. “Are these for Nike?”

“Yeah.” Dean scuffs his boot and shrugs, ducking his head again. He starts mumbling, still clearly embarrassed. “I –uh – I made them. For her. I figured she’d like them better than a crumpled up receipt paper. They’re stuffed with catnip too so she’ll definitely like them. I mean – I _hope_ she does.”

That is just _so sweet_ and Castiel looks up at Dean with a bright smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you. I know Nike is going to love it.” And he can hardly believe that Dean actually _made_ them. He’s very talented and Castiel is very impressed.

Dean clears his throat and shuffles his feet again. “There’s – um – there’s more. In the bag.”

Well, that would absolutely explain why the bag felt rather heavy – far heavier than a handful of knit toys would be. There’s a pulse of excitement that makes his hands shake slightly as he reaches into the bag. Just from the shake that he traces with his fingertips, Castiel knows it’s a mug before he lifts it out. The mug itself is mostly white, but the handle is black. More than that, the handle is quite obviously a pair of wings and the longer that Castiel stares at them, the higher dread builds in his stomach.

How – how could Dean –? No, no. That’s _impossible_. There is _no way_ Dean could possibly know that Castiel has wings, or that his feathers are black. The lines of his tattoos start to itch just thinking about them, but he knows Dean doesn’t know about them. He has no idea Castiel has tattoos, and he definitely doesn’t know that he has wings. The only way he could possible know is if Gabriel’s spells on the rooftop garden have failed. If that were the case, then who knows how many other people have seen him with his wings out while he takes _the sleep_.

Castiel turns the mug over in his hand and sucks in a sharp breath. His name is scrawled in cursive across the side of the mug, and beneath it is _Angel of Thursday_. Some of his sudden bout of anxiety eases slightly. He used to think that was his name sake before Gabriel corrected him after the debacle concerning that author, Chuck. If the wings of the mug are a pun on the angel bit, then that would explain them. It might have nothing to do with his _actual_ wings.

Dean clears his throat with a cough. “I – uh – I thought that it was funny, y’know? Because that’s what comes up when you Google your name.” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous in a way that Castiel hasn’t seen since the first few weeks when they met each other. “It’s kind of an inside joke type deal because I read online that the _Angel of Thursday_ bit was mentioned somewhere in those Supernatural books too.” He shuffles his feet and starts edging towards the door again.

“This is just – Thank you, Dean.” Castiel runs his thumb over his name. There’s still a nervous pit of worry curling tight in his belly, but he’s trying not to think about it _too_ much – just so he can enjoy having received a gift.

“Just – um – just consider it thanks for the awesome coffee you give me, like, every other night, okay?” He shrugs and his smile is a little shaking. “Nothing weird about it.”

“You _buy_ that coffee from me.” Castiel puts the mug down and starts towards Dean. “And before you can say that I give you a discount, please keep in mind that I give that same discount to the police too.”

That sends Dean’s blush into his face too and he turns away once again. “Just accept the dumb gift as thanks, okay?”

“Thanks for what?”

Dean shrugs and coughs again. “For – For being someone that I – I look forward to seeing every other night. So, yeah. That’s what it’s for. Merry Christmas.”

The explanation hits Castiel like a slap to the face and he comes to a sharp stop. He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t the only one looking forward to seeing each other. Why did he assume that he was the only one enjoying spending time together? Clearly Dean likes their time together. He keeps coming back, and he’s always smiling. Though, right now, that smile is being hidden from Castiel and it’s all because Dean is _embarrassed_ by his gift.

“I’ll see you later, Cas.” Dean mumbles his goodbye before Castiel can find his tongue and articulate how much what was just said means to him.

It takes Castiel a moment before he starts after him. He can’t let Dean leave just like that. Proper thanks hasn’t been given and – he just _can’t_. When he reaches the door, it’s to find that Dean has already shoved the games onto the nearest bookshelf and he’s halfway across the café to the door. Castiel waits where he is, knowing full well what Dean apparently hasn’t realized yet.

Sure enough, Dean turns around and almost slinks back to the kitchen. “I forgot I parked in the back.”

Castiel steps aside to let him through, but catches his arms as he passes by. Dean hesitates and glances at him, head still ducked. This is the first time Castiel has done this for someone besides Gabriel in a very long time, but he still gives it a try. His arms and body are oddly stiff as he pulls Dean into a hug, but it’s something and maybe he’ll loosen up over time. Maybe this will get easier and it would be nice if it did.

He can easily remember how much he loved hugging his mother or father. Hugs from his father were always special, as he would spread his wings and wrap them around whoever he hugged. Castiel has never done that for anyone before. His back itches sometimes when he hugs Gabriel, when he needs that physical reassurance that he’s not alone, but his wings have never been out for it. To be honest, he rather hates his wings. If it weren’t for them – if it wasn’t for what he is – he wouldn’t have to hide like this. He wouldn’t have to _live_ like this.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel steps back with a smile, trying not to make it as awkward as he feels. “These gifts are very thoughtful. I don’t have a gift for you, but I want you to know that I really do like them.”

Dean looks as if he’s turned to stone, and he’s gone red from his hairline to the collar of his shirt. His eyes are wide and he opens and closes his mouth a few times. Does he know just how _rare_ an occasion this is? Does he understand just how far outside Castiel’s comfort zone a _hug_ can be? It’s unlikely that Dean knows, but it happened and Castiel is trying very hard not to overthink whether or not Dean’s reaction is because hugging isn’t an acceptable friend thing to do.

Those particular concerns are eased almost immediately as Dean breaks into a wide grin of pure delight. Any embarrassment he had previously is gone in an instant. “Thanks, Cas. I’m glad you like them.”

Castiel picks up the mug again as he follows Dean to the back door. “Where did you get it? This had to have been custom ordered.”

“Online.” He shrugs and glances back at Castiel, his smile almost sparkling. “I could put whatever I wanted on the items they had available and at the time I thought it was a really good idea.”

“Well, it’s still a really good idea.” Castiel runs his fingers over the individual feathers of the black wings and steadies himself with a deep breath. “Thank you.”

And now he’s absolutely going to have to find a gift for Dean in return. It’s short notice and Castiel isn’t too confident in his gift giving abilities, but he’ll try. If he’s right about Dean, and he’s sure that he is, then what the gift is won’t really matter. Still, he’ll at least make a decent attempt. Because this – _this_ is his first gift from a friend and there is a certain amount of significance to it. So much so that while Dean might never know about it, Castiel has most definitely already filed the mug away into his mental list of items that he’ll grab if he and Gabriel ever need to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what the sleigh is supposed to look like, [this is it](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0b/8f/33/0b8f33f9240804d4faf5d93c72235d67.jpg)!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatoryjar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_ _

**_Monday – December 21 st, 2015_ **

It’s Dean’s day off, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. He’s up bright and early because it’s almost Christmas, which means it’s almost New Year’s Eve, which means he’s got a _ton_ of shit to do. Jo gave him the double thumbs up on going ahead with hosting the party, so now he’s got t-minus eleven days to plan the whole damn thing. That includes sending out invitations, buying food, and all manner of insanity included in the process of party planning. It’s not going to be a _crazy_ party, but there’s still so much work to be done.

On the bright side, the inviting process he can do from his computer with a few clicks of his mouse. He doesn’t even have to get dressed to do it. And no one needs to know that the Facebook event he created this morning was done entirely in just his underpants. Dean even made sure to add Charlie and Jo as moderators to the event so they could add whatever people they want to invite from their own friend groups. Charlie’s list is probably going to overlap a lot with Dean’s. The vast majority of their friends are all from their LARP group or from the station.

Jo, on the other hand, is probably not going to have very many people to invite. Apparently she’s not a big fan of most of the people that she went to school with. Dean only knows of a few personal friends that she has outside of the firefighters. Well, whatever. As a moderator, she can invite whoever the hell she wants. Dean invited half his friends list and that’s his job done. It’s so last minute that even though there’s going to be about fifty people invited, he doubts that they’re going to have any more than thirty actually show up.

The invitations are, arguably, the most important thing about this party. That’s why Dean makes sure that they’re the first thing he gets done today. With those out of the way, he treats himself to a shower and a high cholesterol breakfast. It’s an eggs, bacon, _and_ sausages type morning with a minimum of two slices of heavily buttered toast. In hindsight, he probably should have gone with something that would give him more energy because that heavy breakfast kinda leaves him wanting to take a nap afterwards. Unfortunately that’s just not in the cards for him today.

Next up on the docket is hitting the stores for food, drinks, and some cheap decorations because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any at home. The Facebook event page specifically said that everyone should bring anything they might want to eat or drink and that they should be prepared to share it. Because sharing is caring and Dean doesn’t want to go broke this holiday season. That was written all in caps in the event description _and_ he put it in the cover photo. It kinda took away from the whole party image, but at least people are more likely to read it there.

This party is hyping Dean up _so hard_. He’s crazy excited for it. At this point, it’s about on par with how much he’s looking forward to Christmas. Good thing he budgeted his Christmas presents into _last_ month’s paychecks. It leaves him plenty of budget room this month for the party. On the bright side, Charlie and Jo promised to split the bills he’s going to rack up today. That makes him feel _a lot_ better when he gets home later with what feels like fifty shopping bags packed full of chips, pretzels, bottles of booze, and various different kinds of soda pops. It was a three digit bill but split between the three of them, it’s not even half as bad. He doesn’t for a second not appreciate how fucking _lucky_ he is to have such awesome roommates and friends.

All the food he bought ends up on their empty storage shelves in the laundry room. Their pantry isn’t big enough for everything, and they definitely don’t have room for it in the kitchen cupboards. Come party time, everything will be put out on the breakfast bar of the kitchen island. Their dining table is a small four seater and they’re going to shoves that up against the wall to create as much standing and dancing room as they can. They can put more food and drinks on that if they run out of space in the kitchen.

For the living room, they’re going to push all the furniture up against the walls to get it out of the way too. The main floor of the house isn’t exactly _huge_ , but at least they’ve got the basement to work with. The door is off the living room under the staircase, so they’re more or less connected to each other. Unfortunately, the basement isn’t exactly finished, and half of it is just storage shelves against the walls, but Dean plans to put up curtains to hide all of that. They’ve got some rugs he’s going to relocate from the rest of the house to cover the cement floor so they have room to dance down there.

The sound system they’ve got set up is comprised mostly of Bluetooth speakers connected to the main system in the living room. Charlie gave them a _sweet_ system when she first moved in and they’re just going to have to move a couple of those speakers into the basement to get some tunes going down there too. If Dean strings up some Christmas lights around the exposed joists in the basement ceiling, it’ll be turned into a fun party room. If they need extra room, Dean can always move his car out of the garage, stick a space heater, more Christmas lights, and another speaker out there and boom, more space! At the very least, the smokers have the front porch as their space – as long as it doesn’t get too cold for them.

In the case of the weather, it’s been a pretty warm winter so far. They’ve got snow, but not a lot of it. Sometimes the wind gets pretty cold and requires a scarf, but otherwise most people can get by with a good jacket. Far as the weather report claims, it’s supposed to hold steady for the rest of the year. So hopefully it doesn’t get _too_ cold between now and the New Year. He’ll keep his fingers crossed in that regard because everything else seems to be going his way and it’s only a matter of time before his luck changes. Maybe. God, he hopes not.

*

By the time the sun goes down, Dean has cleaned the house top to bottom. If he stays on top of it and doesn’t let a mess happen, it’ll be even easier to do another full clean by party day. Keeping busy makes the day pass quickly and he’s almost surprised when he glances out the window and sees that the sun has gone down. Which is pretty perfect for him, actually. Dean’s been waiting all day for that and he rushes to print out some quick posters, two per page that he cuts apart. With those done, he takes a minute to primp in front of the mirror before heading out.

There’s only one more thing Dean needs to do, and that’s invite a select group of people that he doesn’t know on Facebook. That whole group works at his favourite café and Dean tries not to fidget like a little kid when he walks in, because suddenly he’s nervous as all hell. It takes him a second to recognize the redhead behind the counter as Anna. There are only two Fae working here, far as Dean knows, but he doesn’t really see Anna all that often. He doesn’t know her too well and he really only sees her sometimes on weekdays that he has off and he’s decided to pick Sam up. Those days don’t happen as often as weekends do.

Despite that, Anna recognizes him and she greets him with a smile and a wave. “What can I get for the older brother of everyone’s favourite Winchester?”

“Ouch!” Dean staggers back a step with his hand on his chest. “Got me right in the heart. Why you gotta do me like that, Anna? Here I was being all nice and bringing you guys something.” He laughs and holds out one of the posters he printed. “Can you put this up in the kitchen where you guys do your time punches? I figure that’s the best place for everyone to see it.”

Anna raises and eyebrow and takes the poster. “How do you know about that?”

“I spent an evening carving pumpkins back there. I’d have to be blind not to notice a time punch machine.” He shrugs and leans a hip against the edge of the counter. “Not a lot of place still use that, y’know. Most place use a computer or something.”

She scoffs and looks the poster over. “Aw, you’re inviting us to your New Year’s Eve party?”

“Well, I see you guys pretty often. I thought, why the heck not, y’know?” Dean eyes up the pastry case, trying to distract himself so he doesn’t give away that he’s kinda got an ulterior motive for inviting the café crew. He figures that Cas might be more willing to come if some of his employees attend the party too. More employees than just Sam, that is. That way, if Dean can’t keep him company for the whole party, then at least there will be some other people Cas can hang with.

“You’re sweet, Dean. I can see why Cas likes you.” Anna winks and waves the poster at him. “I’ll definitely put it up soon as I get the chance to.”

Awesome! That’s one poster taken care of. “You’re the best, thanks!” Now he’s got one more in his pocket that he needs to deal with. “Hey, what are the chances that you’ll let me go in the back to head upstairs? I wanna see if Cas is up yet.”

She raises another eyebrow, but this time it’s accompanied with a suspicious squint. Anna’s wings, all shiny and see-thru, lift up and start fluttering. After a minute, they drop flat to her back again and she waves her hand. “Eh, fine. If they get mad at me, it’s no big deal. Totally their fault for poor planning and not giving themselves a proper front door.”

“Thanks, Anna.” He gives her his brightest grin before slipping around the edge of the counter.

Dean almost makes it to the door before she grabs his arm and hands him his poster, along with a roll of tape. “Don’t thank me because I’m going to make you put up your invitation poster yourself.” She grins back and pats him on the shoulder. “Just leave the tape back there when you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He makes a face at her, but they both break down laughing.

The bell over the door dingles and that as good a time as any for Dean to make his exit. He ducks into the kitchen and takes a second to tape his little poster to the hutch by the stairs. Hopefully the café crew see it and understand that he means for _them_ to come. Not them plus fifteen of their other friends. One or two buddies is okay, but Dean’s house just really isn’t _that_ big. Plus they’re roping off the upstairs so no one can go through their shit, so that cuts down on a whole floor of space they could be using.

At this point, there’s nothing Dean can do but hope. And most of that hope is focused on the other poster in his pocket that he fiddles with as he heads upstairs. It’s weird to go up to someone’s front door without being invited or expected. When’s the last time he did this? Probably before cellphones became a thing and it became the norm to phone ahead. He can clearly remember just biking over to a friend’s house when he was a kid and ringing the doorbell with the expectation that they’d probably be free. If they weren’t, he’d bike to the next friend’s house or head on home. That’s just how it _was_ as a kid. It’s not like that now, and he kinda misses it. Not that he’d give up the convenience of his cell phone for anything, of course.

In this case, Dean just wants to ask Cas to the party in person. He could’ve done it by text, but this just feels like the better option. That way, if Cas refuses, Dean can assure him face to face that it’s okay that he doesn’t come. Whenever he has to turn someone down by text messages, he personally doesn’t really believe them when they say that it’s okay. Dean always things that he fucked up and made them upset by rejecting their invitation, even if he has a legitimate excuse and he’s really nice about saying ‘no’. If he can’t see their face, then he doesn’t believe that they’re actually cool with it. So, just in case Cas might be the same, Dean is going to do this whole invitation thing in person like a grown up.

Gabriel is the one who opens the door when Dean knocks. He’s dressed in his pajamas and Dean is trying _really_ hard not to laugh because he’s wearing goddamn _footie_ pajamas. It’s a onesie with a hood and it’s covered in pictures of bowls of ice cream and various sundaes. Holy shit Dean is going to definitely file this away as some kind of teasing point for the future.

To his credit, Gabriel doesn’t seem the least bit phased that Dean has caught him in this supposedly awkward situation. “Cassie didn’t tell me that you were coming over.”

“Probably because I’m not.” Dean shrugs and takes a deep breath, fighting against the urge to grin like an idiot. “Is he awake? I just wanna drop something off with him.”

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He turns and raises his voice into the apartment. “ _Cassie!_ Get your butt out here and make sure you’re decent!”

The shouting really wasn’t necessary. Dean could’ve done that on his own, but okay. He’s not going to complain because of what happens next. A door opens down the hall off the kitchen and all Dean hears is groaning and grumbling. Cas comes shuffling into the kitchen with a sheet bunched up and hanging over his shoulders. His problem, however, is that he doesn’t have it pulled closed in front of him and Dean is now keenly aware that Cas isn’t wearing a shirt, or pants. Nope. This day is going to end on him getting a _very_ good look at what Cas looks like in just his boxers and _holy shit_.

Gabriel must know what’s going on in his head, because he turns around and backhands Dean’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes above the collarbone, got it? No ogling allowed while I’m here.”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” Dean ducks his head with a blush, but there’s really no denying that he was definitely eyeing up everything _below_ the collarbone. He clears his throat and lift a hand in a wave. “Hey, Cas. How’s it going?”

Cas comes to a dead stop in the middle of the kitchen and squints at him for a few seconds. He’s not wearing his glasses, his hair is fucked six ways from Sunday, _and_ he’s got a full day’s worth of stubble growth going. Dean’s fingers twitch so hard with the urge to run his fingers over Cas’s jaw and up into his hair. Surprise hits Cas hard and he scrambles to wrap the sheet around himself better than before, clutching it tightly against his chest.

His whole face goes three different shades of red. “Dean! Why are you – Did we have plans?”

Aw, it’s adorable how flustered this is making him. It’s almost enough to make Dean feel a little bad. “Nah, I was just in the area and stopped in to give you guys this.” To prove that he’s not completely lying, Dean pulls the poster from his pocket and hands it over to Gabriel for inspection.

After looking it over, Gabriel lights up with a grin and waves the paper at Cas. “Look! He’s inviting us to a New Year’s Eve party!”

“Oh.” Cas shuffles close enough to take the paper and look at it himself. “You already got permission?”

“Yup!” Dean rocks back on his heels and shoves his hands in his pockets, because that’s the best he can do with them. “I spent today getting everything ready before all the Christmas stuff really hits. Better to be prepared than not, y’know?”

He nods in agreement, but doesn’t take his eyes off the paper. In fact, he’s very much not looking at Dean at all. Gabriel must notice, because he steps over to give Cas a shove towards the door. “Go over and talk with your friend, Cassie. Don’t be shy!”

“But I –” Cas steps on the edge of the sheet and scrabbles to keep it up around his shoulders. He’s blushing more than before now and Dean is finding it _way_ too cute.

“Nothing to be ashamed about, Cassie.” Gabriel pats him on the butt before stepping out of hitting range. “We’re all guys here and you don’t have anything that Dean-o hasn’t already seen.”

Dean smiles and nods along. “He’s got a point, Cas.”

“Will you two both just –” He huffs and pulls the sheet over his head too, making a little hood out of it. “You can go away now, Gabriel. Your movie is going to start without you.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and picks up a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen table. “That’s the great thing about Netflix. The movie starts when _I_ want it to.” He flaps a hand at the two of them. “I can’t make the party because someone’s gotta stay here in case things get busy downstairs. But _you_ should go, Cassie.”

That would be _awesome_ if he did come, but there’s one problem Dean can see and Cas points it out right away. “New Year’s Eve is a Thursday. I have to work.”

“Well, aren’t we in luck?” Gabriel grins and pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “You’ve got _me_ to stay up and late cover for you so you can spend a couple hours at the party. Or we just close for a few hours if I’m too tired, since I gotta work Friday morning, y’know. No big deal. We’re flexible.” He shrugs and turns on his heel to head down the hall. “Thanks for the invite, but no can do for me!”

Once Gabriel is gone, Cas starts shifting uncomfortably. He hasn’t looked away from the paper and Dean’s starting to feel a little bad. Maybe he should have been a little more _current_ normal and actually texted Cas before he came here. Yeah, he probably should have, but too little too late. The best he can do now is back off and let Cas think things over. It’s not like he needs to decide if he’s going to attend right now. He can let Dean know tomorrow night when he’s on shift and comes in for coffee, or he can tell him at any point between now and next week.

“I just came to drop that off for you.” He clears his throat and takes a step back towards the stairs. “I didn’t mean to disturb you like this. Sorry for that, Cas.”

“No, no.” Cas shakes his head and the edge of the sheet falls over his eyes a bit more. “It’s fine. I just – I’m not very good at being caught by surprise like this. Especially when I’ve just woken up.”

Dean chews at his bottom lip a bit. “Are you sure?” Because he actually _really_ feels bad about this and he’s going to be kicking himself in the ass for this shitty decision the whole drive home.

“Yes, it’s fine.” He nods, but doesn’t look up from the invitation. “How many people are going to be coming to the party?”

Ah, good question. And it’s also the first one he figured Cas would be asking. “No idea.” Dean shrugs and gives a nervous laugh. “I mean, I’ve invited around fifty people, but those invites only went out today. I’m expecting that we’ll probably get around thirty. Possibly less if any of those people made plans for different parties, y’know? It’s mostly going to be firefighters you’ve probably already met, and a group of friends from a league that Charlie and I play with every so often.”

He is _not_ ready to admit just how big of a huge fucking _nerd_ he is. Cas doesn’t need to know yet that some weekends Dean dresses up like a medieval sword fighter and tromps around in the forests of Hubbard Park with thirty other like minded nerds. That’s something Dean wouldn’t reveal until maybe the sixth date. Potentially earlier. Cas is pretty chill about a lot of things, and it’s not like Dean’s _ashamed_ of being a LARPer. But it’s just something that most people don’t really understand, so he tries to hold off on talking about it to avoid awkward conversations.

“If it helps, I’m also inviting all your employees. Sam will be there too.” Dean shrugs and scratches at the back of his neck. “If they can make it and want to come. But I figured it would be easier for you if there was a group of people there that you actually know.”

Cas glances up from the paper and there’s a shadow of a smile on his lips. “Thank you. That was nice of you to do and I’m sure they’ll appreciate the invitation.”

“I hope they can make it.” He grins, feeling a little better now that Cas is smiling too. “And I hope _you_ can make it, Cas. I know you work and everything, so if you can’t then I totally get it.”

Instead of answering with a definite yes or no, Cas just hums and looks down at the poster again. He pulls the sheet around himself a little tighter and he probably shouldn’t have done that. It draws Dean’s attention to it more than before, particularly to the fact that the sheet isn’t exactly opaque. The tighter Cas pulls it, the more Dean can see through it. In particular, he can see hints of black lines on Cas’s upper arms and shoulders.

Holy shit, does Cas have _tattoos_? Or is it a subtle pattern to the sheet that Dean just isn’t picking up for the rest of it because he doesn’t want to be caught staring at anything below Cas’s shoulders? Is it a trick of the light or are his eyes playing tricks on him? Is it all of the above or is it _really_ tattoos? Whatever it might be, Dean can’t see the lines through the sheet well enough to be able to tell what they are. The question is itching at the back of Dean’s throat, but he forces himself to look away before Cas notices so he doesn’t get self-conscious about it.

He does, however file that little tidbit away to bring up at a later date because this is so fucking _neat_. Dean’s not exactly sure _when_ he first wanted to get a tattoo, but it’s definitely on his bucket list for the future. The problem with getting a tattoo is that Dean would have to take some vacation time to get one. It would suck to have to wear all his gear and do his job while having to worry about a sensitive tattoo for a week.

Aside from that, Dean doesn’t actually know what he wants to get either. The plan is that if he figures out something that he wouldn’t mind putting on his skin permanently, that’s when he’ll start scheduling to get himself a tattoo. It’s not like he’s really in any rush for it either. A tattoo will happen when it happens, that’s for sure.

“Well, I was just stopping in.” Dean takes another step back, if only so Cas doesn’t have to keep feeling uncomfortable being out here in his underwear and a sheet. “I’ll leave that with you and you can let me know your answer later.”

“I’ll let you know now.” Cas puts the paper on the table and turns back to Dean with a small, kinda nervous smile. “I’ll go.” His smile falls into a really determined expression. “But only if you can promise that you won’t leave me alone during the time that I’m there – unless it’s with my employees. Then I can promise that I’ll come for at least an hour and be there for the New Year’s countdown.”

Is it possible to break one’s own face if they grin really hard? Because Dean’s face actually hurts from his smile. He nods maybe a little too excitedly and holds out his hand to seal the deal. Handshakes are apparently the safest kind of touch Dean can get from Cas, and – to be quite honest – he really likes it. Cas has nice hands and it takes a _lot_ of mental willpower to keep himself from thinking stupid shit like what it would be like to be able to kiss, suck, or lick those fingers on the daily. They’re nice, solid hands and Dean _really_ likes them.

Thankfully, Cas doesn’t have the first clue what Dean thinks about his hands. He has zero hesitation with slipping one out from beneath the sheet for a quick shake. Dean laughs and gives his hand a squeeze. “It’s a deal, Cas. I’ll give you a tour of the house, maybe introduce you to some people. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And if you gotta leave, I won’t keep you.”

“The terms are acceptable.” Cas smiles, brighter and more sure of himself as he squeezes back before letting go. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too.” Dean backs away to the top of the stairs and he brings two fingers to his forehead in a cocky salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”

Cas frowns for a second before he realizes what that means. “Oh, alright. I can’t wait.” His smile is small, but genuine and it makes Dean’s heart ache. “Drive safe, Dean.”

He’s one stair down and the apartment door is almost shut before Dean realizes he’s got one more thing to say. “Oh, wait! Cas!” Dean waits until Cas is leaning around the edge of the door, eyebrow raised. “I’m almost done with the Tamuli. When I’m finished, we should find something else to read together again. It was nice having a little book club with you.”

“I agree.” Cas nods and looks away briefly. “I’ve already started a different book. The question is, though, do you want another series or a single book?”

Good question. While a series would open up more for them to read, it’s sometimes pretty hard to find a decent series and especially one that they would _both_ like to read. “Either works, I guess.”

“Then I’ll text you the name of the one I’m working on right now.”

In no way should Dean feel _this_ giddy about having a book club with Cas, but he totally is and it’s _awesome_. “Great! I think I’m going to have get myself an e-reader to keep up with you. I don’t go book shopping often enough to have a physical copy.”

“There’s no shame in that.” Cas shakes his head with a smile. “If I didn’t prefer having a paper copy in my hands, I would absolutely get an e-reader for the pure convenience of having one.” His sentence ends muffled in a yawn that he hides behind one hand. “I’m sorry. I’m still not entirely awake yet.”

“No worries, Cas!” Dean laughs and brushes it off with a wave. “Go back to bed or take a shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.” So they don’t get caught up in another conversation, Dean heads down the stairs with a bounce in his step.

Anna is in the middle of boxing up some weird cream puff looking things when he heads back out into the café. She looks up and tilts her head at him. “Am I in any trouble?”

“Nope. They didn’t even ask how I got in, so I didn’t bother ratting you out.”

“Bless your heart.”

Dean winks at her and ducks out before he gets wrapped up in anything more. It’s entering late afternoon and he’s still got a ton of other stuff to do for the day. In this case, it’s cooking. Since he works tomorrow and plans to sleep most of Wednesday, he’s going to be preparing most of Christmas dinner for Charlie and Jo tonight. It’s not going to be a huge dinner or anything, but he’s planning for a pot roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, some mixed vegetables, and fresh baked rolls.

On the bright side, this is actually going to be insanely easy. Dean is going to let the roast marinate all of Tuesday and then pop it in the slow cooker when he gets home Wednesday morning. The potatoes and veggies don’t take long, so he’ll do those before dinner on Wednesday. The gravy is basically made on its own in the slow cooker with the pot roast, so there’s not much work to be done there. Which means Dean is going to get to sleep in without having a whole lot of work to do when he wakes up.

Everything is just falling into place so nicely. Life is going good and Dean is feeling _great_ about it.

**_Thursday – December 24 th, 2015_ **

When it comes to opening Christmas gifts, Dean always lets everyone else go first. His excuse is that he’s the cameraman and he has to get everyone’s reactions to everything. The Winchesters have recorded every Christmas gift opening since the day he was born, and Dean has been working the one manning the camera since he was old enough to hold it steady. In reality, Dean just really loves seeing how happy everyone gets with their gifts, and he can’t do that when he’s focusing on his own stuff. Giving good gifts is half the reason he loves this holiday. Everyone knows it, and he lucks out that they only complain a little bit when he’s the last one with gifts left to open.

Bobby is the last of the family to finish with his gifts this evening. As soon as he’s done, Sam is up and trying to take the camera from Dean. “Alright, Spielberg. It’s your turn.”

“Okay, okay.” He winks at the camera when it’s turned on him and drops onto the couch so he can get right to work. Everyone wants him to be done so they can have dinner.

It’s pretty easy to open gifts for him. Bobby and Dad always just give cash because they’re fucking _terrible_ at gift giving. Dean thanks them both when he opens the cards from them. He does note that there is significantly less money in his cards than there were in Sam’s, but that’s not about the spirit of Christmas so he’s not going to bring it up. Besides, Sam needs more money than he does. The kid _is_ planning on going to college someday, just as soon as he figures out what he wants to do.

“Open mine next!” Sam uses his foot to push a bag over.

Dean rolls his eyes and exaggerates his motions with yanking the tissue papers off the top. “Oh, sweet! Sammy this is great!” He bounces in his seat a little as he yanks out a care package designed entirely for the Impala. Most of it is home care stuff so he can change her oil, top up the fluids, and more. There’s a car washing kit too that includes stuff buffing and polishing, and cleaning cloths so Baby gets cleaned inside and out.

“Thanks, Sammy!” Dean stands up long enough to pull him into a tight hug. This stuff isn’t cheap and Dean knows it must’ve taken at least half of one of Sam’s paychecks to get it. “You’re the best little brother a guy can ask for.” And, just because he’s the big brother, Dean ruffles Sam’s hair up into a hell of a mess.

“Okay, okay. Enough!” Mom pops out of her chair to pull Sam out of reach. The camera work is going to be utterly fucked up, but it’s still hilarious.

Even out of her chair, Mom is bouncing on the balls of her feet while she’s fixing Sam’s hair. “Only one present left, Dean!”

Ah, yes. The gift from mom. He picks it up as he sits back down. It’s a flat box and it feels pretty light, so that means it can only be one thing; _clothes_. As an adult, Dean honestly doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s kinda hoping that it’s some new socks or a packet of underwear. He could do with some new ones. Otherwise he’s just going to have to remember to buy some the next time he goes to Walmart.

There is one problem though. Mom looks _way_ too excited for this to be just clothing. Something is going on here and Dean is going to tease the hell out of all of them. He holds the box up to his ear and gives it a good shake. “What could this be?”

“Don’t play for time!” Mom hisses and sits back down in her chair. She leans forward and clasps her hands under her chin. “Just open it!”

Oh, something is _definitely_ going on right now. Dean rolls his eyes at her and takes his time with breaking the tape holding the lid of the box down. Under the lid is a bunch of tissue paper folded around what looks to be a light blue t-shirt. There’s something familiar about the teddy bear on the front of it, but Dean can’t quite place his finger on it as he lifts it out of the box.

Sam snorts a laugh when Dean turns it for the camera to see. “You _wuv_ hugs?”

“Oh God.” Dad groans and drops his face into his hands. “It was bad enough when you had him wearing that when he was a kid. Why did you get him _another_ one?”

“Because it’s hilarious and adorable and he loves hugs. Don’t you, baby?” To prove her point, Mom stands up and open her arms.

Dean doesn’t hesitate to get up and lift her off her feet in the best kind of hug. She’s right. He _does_ love hugs. “Thanks, Mom. I love it. I’ll probably never wear it out of the house, but I do like it.”

“I expect nothing less of you, baby.” She laughs and pats him on the cheek. “But just to let you know, that’s not your only gift.” Her grin damn near splits her face and Mom starts vibrating with excitement again. “You should probably check the bottom of the box.”

Hah! He was right! Something _is_ going on. Dean squints at her while taking the rest of the tissue paper out of the box. There’s an envelope taped to the bottom of it and that’s just _super_ suspicious. Everyone is basically holding their breath while Dean opens the envelope to look inside. One glance and he knows _exactly_ why everyone is acting so weird right now.

“No fucking way.”

Mom doesn’t even care that he swore on the Christmas tape. She laughs and claps her hands excitedly. “Yes way, baby!”

Dean pulls out two tickets for _floor seats_ right up by the stage to none other than AC/DC. The show is nine months out in September, but they’re going to be in New York City and he’s completely blown the fuck away by this. “Seriously, Mom?”

“Absolutely!”

He fans the tickets at her because _no way_. These have gotta be some kind of fake ticket, like those winning lottery scratches you can buy that are totally just for jokes. “These can’t be real. They would’ve cost you an arm and a leg!”

Bobby gets up to pat Dean on the shoulder. “And that explains my gift, and yer dad’s. Plus, don’t expect a birthday present from me.”

Dad slaps Dean on the other shoulder. “Same goes for me.”

“And me!” Mom grins. “I figured you wouldn’t mind for this chance. Was I right, or was I right?”

Honestly, Dean would give up every birthday present for however many years it takes to pay off these tickets because this is fucking _amazing_. He has no words for this, so Dad steps up to speak instead of him. Although he does it by taking one of the tickets from Dean and handing it over to Mom.

“The same goes for you, dear. You’re not getting a birthday gift either.”

She must’ve been in on it, because she wiggles the ticket at Dean. “I hope you’re okay going to the concert with your old lady.”

“I wouldn’t have anyone else go with me!” Dean wraps her up in another hug and spins her around. “You’re the _greatest_!”

Sam scoffs, but there’s a smile hiding behind that camera. “Yeah, and she just went and showed the rest of us up. Thanks, Mom.”

“Hey now. Yer Dad and I chipped in!”

This is so fucking _awesome_ that Dean isn’t going to be able to set tight for until September of next year. He’s just so freaking _excited_ and he has the best family in the whole damn world. This is the best Christmas ever and he can’t even _begin_ to thank his parents and Bobby and Sam for how amazing they all are. Seriously, it’s enough to make him cry.

_** ** _

**_Monday – December 21 st, 2015_ **

Castiel locks the door after Dean has left and remains standing there for a few moments. He did it. He _actually_ did it. Dean asked him to attend his party and Castiel accepted. This is a momentous occasions and he would like to congratulate himself on his bravery, but there is something that requires his attention more than that. In this case, it’s Gabriel.

With the sheet flapping behind him in a poor mockery of a cape, Castiel stalks to the living room with the sole purpose of kicking Gabriel in the thigh. His movie has started playing, but he doesn’t appear to be paying any attention to it. Currently, Gabriel is sitting at the desk and seems to be in the process of getting a head start on the month end filing for the café. The log cards for the last week are stacked next to him and he’s right in the middle of entering them into the system.

Essentially, Gabriel is doing everything that Castiel should probably be doing. After all, he does have more time to spare. He’s always felt that it’s unfair to Gabriel that he be the one to handle all the paperwork for the café after spending eight hours working on his feet in the kitchen. Especially since all Castiel does during his shifts is some cleaning prior to spending the rest of it reading a book or folding a number of origami pieces.

But this is how Gabriel wants it to be. Thus far he has yet to determine if this is because Gabriel has control issues or if he doesn’t think Castiel can do it. Either way, that’s not the reason that he kicks him right now. No, Castiel kicks him for a _very_ good reason.

“You could have _told_ me that Dean was here!” He hisses and snaps the edge of the sheet at him. “I would have put on some actual _clothes_.”

Gabriel doesn’t even look up from the laptop, though a grin tilts across his mouth. “Now why would I go and do something like that? You should’ve seen how big is eyes got when you came out like that.” He rubs at his thigh with a wince before returning to typing in the time cards.

“Whatever you’re doing; stop it.” Castiel pulls the sheet around himself again and narrows his eyes. “I don’t like it.” Something is going on here and there will likely never be a time when he _isn’t_ incredibly suspicious of his brother’s actions from here on until the last syllable of recorded time.

“I’m not doing anything.” Gabriel turns his head just enough to tilt a side glance at him. “All I did was call for you just like he asked me to.”

He might sound sincere, but Castiel knows him and he’s most _definitely_ up to something. “I said _stop it_.” To emphasise his point, he delivers another kick to the same spot. “You’re lucky I brought the sheet with me. If he had seen my tattoos, he –”

“Oh for the love of God, Cassie.” Gabriel turns the chair sharply, cutting him off. “The only thing that would have happened is that Dean would have thought they were cool. All they look like are tattoos and he wouldn’t have thought anything special of them. He _especially_ wouldn’t have been able to tell that you’ve got _real_ wings hiding in them.”

Castiel knows those are very logical points, but his whole life has been about not taking risks and he doesn’t want to start now. “I don’t care.” He turns with a huff. “I’ll be taking _the sleep_ in my bedroom, so you’ll need to release them in the morning.”

The chair squeaks as Gabriel turns back to the laptop. “And _why_ aren’t you going to sleep on the roof like you usually do?”

There are multiple good reasons for that, but one of them involves what took place last night when Dean was leaving. And that reason is the most pressing. “I want you to make sure the spell on the roof is still in place.”

“It is.” Gabriel frowns at him and his gaze is all manner of calculating. “I check it every day, Cassie. You know that. So what’s going on?”

It was only a matter of time before he was going to have to tell him what happened last night. Castiel isn’t putting it off on purpose, but he knows that he’s going to get made fun of for having any manner of anxiety over this. With a sigh, he gestures for Gabriel to follow him. “Dean gave me a gift last night.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Gabriel jumps up from his chair and follows at Castiel’s heels, his suspicion replaced with delight. “How could you?”

“You were in bed by that point.” He shrugs and ducks into his bedroom. “We haven’t exactly had much of a chance to talk yet today.”

It takes the span of a heartbeat for Gabriel to find the mug sitting on Castiel’s shelf. He placed it next to the origami gifts he’s received over the last several weeks, for lack of a better place to put it. This is one of the few places he has in his bedroom where Nike _won’t_ jump up, most likely because she can’t get anywhere else from this spot.

“Is it this?” Gabriel picks the mug up and starts turning it over in his hands.

Castiel hugs himself under the sheet, pulling it even tighter across his shoulders. He nods and stares at the mug, trying his hardest to focus on the warm feelings it inspired in him last night. “Do you think he knows about my wings?”

“Doubt it.” He laughs and puts the mug back down again. “You tested it yourself, remember? No one can see you on the roof. You know that for a _fact_.”

Be that as it may, Castiel isn’t going to be able to feel calm about this until it’s confirmed. “Could you please just check for me, okay? I don’t seriously think that Dean knows about my wings, but I still want the roof to be checked.”

“So you’re paranoid, but not paranoid enough to think this is a sign that he knows?” Gabriel gestures at the mug, mouth tilted in a skeptical smile.

Castiel shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed. “He said he saw the mug by chance and ordered it with that inscription because of what happened with Chuck. Dean said it was an _inside joke_.”

Gabriel hums a note of agreement and nodes. “Well, yeah. I can see that happening. Either way, Cassie, it’s cute. If you want my professional opinion on it, then I’d say don’t worry about it. I looked into him when he first started showing interest in you and everything is totally cool with him. He’s got my gold seal of approval.”

That’s certainly something. For as much of a goofball as he usually is, Gabriel doesn’t give his seal of approval out willy-nilly. Even still, Castiel is doubtful. “Are you _sure_?”

With a sigh, Gabriel moves over to put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. “Cassie, I want you to look at me.” As if he has much choice given their positions. “Dean is good for you, little bro. Don’t let a nice gift like this scare you off.”

“I’m not.” Castiel shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “I’m just – it has my _wings_ on it.” And that’s the crux of his problem. He loves the gift dearly for a variety of reasons, but he can’t stop worrying over the wings being black like his own.

“I hate to break it to you, Cassie, but the Castiel from the Supernatural series has wings too.” Gabriel sits down next to him and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “I bet the colour was just a coincidence too. The mug probably came in different colours and I gotta say that it wouldn’t look half as good with any other kind of wings. So, could you just try not to be an idiot about this, okay?”

It should count that Castiel is at least _trying_ not to be. He understands where Gabriel is coming from regarding this, but he can’t stop being at least just a little bit paranoid about everything. That’s only part of the reason why he’ll be taking _the sleep_ in his bedroom. The rest of the reason being the snow and the cold. Castiel doesn’t much like the idea of going to sleep in the cold and waking up in the cold. He’s never done it before and he’s not really looking forward to doing it now.

Prior to moving into this apartment, he actually never used to take _the sleep_ outside. Once the roof top garden was put together after they moved her earlier in the year, he decided to start doing it outside. It’s easier to clean up after _the sleep_ when it’s outside. There’s always more space and he rather liked waking up surrounded by all of his plants. Now that it’s winter, he can’t do that even if he does continue to take _the sleep_ outside. At this point in the season, all the plants that can’t be moved inside have been covered to wait until the spring. Their living room and kitchen have been overrun with the plants that won’t do well with the cold, and there are even more that have been moved downstairs into the café.

The budding exhaustion that comes with the day before _the sleep_ is starting to make Castiel feel just a little irritable. He shoves away from Gabriel and stands to go shake some dry food into Nike’s bowl. “I’m not going to be an idiot about anything. I just think it’s better that I take _the sleep_ indoors now that it’s winter.” It really does make the most sense.

“Alright, alright.” Gabriel gets to his feet and reaches over to pat Castiel on the cheek, even going so far to knuckle his chin affectionately. “Before I go, I gotta tell you that I’m proud of you, by the way. You’re going to the party and I didn’t even have to argue with you this time.”

Oh yes, that. Castiel ducks his head and distracts himself by lifting Nike into his lap from where she’s dozing at the end of his bed. “I’m only going to be going for an hour or so. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s still better than nothing!” He laughs and starts for the door. “You’re going to have a blast.”

As far as Castiel is concerned, the jury is still out on that. “Everyone will be drinking.” And he has very little experience dealing with people drinking. They were doing that at the Halloween party, but no one got very drunk. He fully expects people to get drunk at Dean’s party. Then they’ll be loud and obnoxious and annoying.

Of course Gabriel has an answer for that too. “Big whoop. You’re good with beer so have a couple yourself. If you get drunk and don’t want to finish your shift when you get back, then close the café. You’re the boss and no one is going to care.”

“ _I’ll_ care!” Frankly, he’s appalled that Gabriel is so cavalier with their hours. They could potentially make quite a bit off of everyone heading home from parties who want coffee to clear their heads, or something to snack on. Gabriel, of all people, should understand the importance of staying open because _he’s_ the one who said he’s making extra baked goods to sell overnight.

“Well, then, have just one drink. For me?”

“No.” He huffs and starts petting Nike until she purrs. “I don’t want to drink.”

“Too bad.” Gabriel spreads his hands in defeat and shakes his head. “The booze would probably help your nerves. You could’ve been the life of the party.”

Castiel frowns and raises his head to fix Gabriel with a glare. “I don’t want to be the life of the party. Now get out of my room. I need to change.”

“Without taking a shower first?”

Alright, he’ll concede to that. “Get out of my room so I can go shower.”

Gabriel throws his head with a laugh and steps out into the hall, ducking out of sight. He leans back into view only a moment later. “Actually, hold on. I have one more question. Dean gave you a cute mug, so what are you going to get in him in return?”

Oh _crap_. Castiel has been so focused on not freaking out last night about the mug having black wings that he hadn’t even stopped to think about that. “What do I –” He looks to Gabriel with nothing short of horror. “I don’t even – I _should_ –”

He doesn’t want to be so considered a bad friend. Castiel _likes_ Dean and he wants their friendship to continue. Will there be problems between them if he doesn’t? This is well out of his depths and he moves Nike from his lap so he can stand. “Gabriel, what do I _do_?”

“What you’re gonna do is go take your shower, Cassie.” Gabriel steps out of sight again, but his voice carries down the hall from the kitchen. “When you’re done, we’ll brainstorm the perfect Christmas present for your boyfriend.”

There’s no point in denying that Dean _isn’t_ his boyfriend. That’s been insinuated several times over and Castiel is sick of that argument. Gabriel is just being an annoying big brother and there’s nothing that can be said or done to make him stop. Of course that doesn’t make it any less frustrating and Castiel sits back down for the sole purpose of rubbing his hands over his face and taking a minute to collect himself. This is _not_ how he expected his day to start and he sincerely hopes that it’s not indicative to how the rest of the day will go.

Once he’s has a better grasp of himself, Castiel gets up to start his day properly. First and foremost, he shoos Nike from the bed so he can make it. She’s not happy about and growls at him as she goes to nose at her food. Her wet food isn’t down yet, so it’s only a matter of moments before she starts loudly complaining about that. Either she’s going to have to wait until after Castiel’s shower, or she’ll have to suffer through not being in the bathroom while he’s in there.

“How did you manage to stay on the bed all day?” He poses the question while Nike carefully paws kibble form the bowl to eat it off the floor. “I must have been tossing and turning a lot to cocoon myself in just the sheet. Did that upset you?”

Nike lifts her head to blink at him, ears twitching forward before she returns to playing with her kibble. Even though she pulls it out of her bowl, she never makes a mess and she doesn’t do the same with the wet food. She’s such a good cat and Castiel makes a note to try and find a cat tree for her today. He can look online while he’s working tonight and hopefully he’ll find something that he can put in his bedroom, although she won’t get much sunlight in here unless it’s a day when he takes _the sleep_.

Alternatively, Castiel could put the cat tree out in the living room where Gabriel leaves the curtains open during the day. Otherwise the only other option available would be to try and rig out some sort of window covering that went over the cat tree so it would still get light without forcing _the sleep_ upon him while he’s in bed. That would be disastrous for the bed and _that_ is a mess he really does not want to have to clean up. It’s going to be annoying enough throughout the winter.

This wouldn’t be a problem if Gabriel hadn’t told Castiel that sometimes when his door is open during the day, though not open enough for sunlight to reach his bed, Nike comes out to lay in a sunbeam. While she seems to have adjusted to his schedule, Castiel still wants to try and give her as normal a cat life as he can. That means she needs a cat tree and it should be somewhere she can relax in the sun. Or at least that’s what _he_ thinks.

He brainstorms ideas throughout his shower, for which Nike watches from between the curtain and liner. She’s especially whiny afterwards when he gets out one of the cans of her wet food. The only thing that keeps her from curling around his feet and getting in the way is one of Dean’s specially made mice for her. Castiel left them in a Ziploc baggy on top of the fridge and he takes one down after his shower, tossing it across the floor to see if she’ll like it.

Nike makes a stuttering chitter of a meow and slides after it. She ends up smacking it back and forth across the kitchen a few times, all of which Castiel films with his phone. Eventually she ends up on her side underneath the kitchen table, chewing and licking at the fish while simultaneously kicking it with her hind paws. His heart melts watching her. Even he can’t withstand these levels of adorableness, and suddenly he understands why the internet seems obsessed with posting cat pictures and videos. He has the overwhelming urge to share the video he just took.

As such, Castiel doesn’t hesitate to text the video to Dean after he’s put Nike’s food down. She doesn’t seem all that interested in it, but she will be eventually. He follows the video up with a quick message. **_Thank you for the toy! I think she likes it a lot. I’ve put the rest in a baggy that I will dispense when she gets tired of this one._**

Dean responds with a slew of smiley faces. **_If you want me to re-stuff them with catnip, it’s super easy to do. Just lemme know!_**

Castiel can’t help but smile at the message. Dean is so sweet and compassionate. He’s allergic to cats and yet he’s still so kind to Nike. It causes a sharp pulse of heat through his chest that makes Castiel feel a little light headed. Honestly, he really likes Dean. Aside from his paranoia regarding the mug, Castiel is actually _very_ happy to have made the effort to get to know him. Which means that he _needs_ to find the perfect gift. Something that will express just how much he appreciates Dean’s friendship.

And he only has a handful of days to do it.

**_Saturday – December 26 th, 2017_ **

The week has flown by in a blur of festivities and preparations. Castiel is _very_ happy that it’s the weekend. Once his shift is over, he’ll be free for two days of peace and quiet where he won’t have to interact with anyone save for Gabriel and possibly Dean. On the bright side, Friday he had _the sleep_ , so he’s not facing the last shift of the week with bone deep exhaustion. And now that it’s after midnight, Christmas is officially done with and there’s only one more thing to do before he can put the holiday season behind him.

His one outstanding Christmas task is actually the one causing Castiel the most anxiety, though he refuses to admit it to Gabriel. It’s taken them all week to put it together, but Dean’s Christmas gift is ready and waiting for him. He just needs to actually come to the café tonight to get it. Considering that it’s almost Dean’s usual time to arrive, Castiel’s nerves are running higher than they have for the first half of his shift. Particularly because they haven’t had much of a chance to talk over the holiday.

Aside from a **_Merry Christmas, Cas!_** text message with a heart and a smiling emoji that came in shortly after midnight on Christmas eve, Castiel hasn’t heard from Dean for all of Christmas day. It’s understandable, considering that he should have been sleeping and then working all day. From what Castiel has been told, holidays like Christmas are the busiest times of the year for firefighters. There are plenty of medical emergencies for elderly people who get a little too excited about their Christmas gifts;  or accidents occurring with candles on the dinner table; or mood lighting set with a fireplace that hasn’t been used or properly cleaned for most of the year.

Dean has been _extremely_ busy almost every shift that he’s had this season, and yet he still manages to be so excited to do his job. Castiel admires him for it, actually. It’s so rare to find someone who actually looks forward to such a difficult career like his. Of course it’s hard not just on a physical level, but an emotional one as well, yet somehow Dean is always so positive and chipper. Castiel has proof of it on his phone, not just in text messages but in pictures too.

The most recent of pictures are from Wednesday and Thursday evening. Dean sent small tidbits and snapshots of his life with his friends and family. Castiel rather liked the little insight he was given and he certainly wouldn’t object to more. If he’s lucky, maybe one day _he_ will be in those pictures and Dean will be sending them to someone else to show what a good time he’s having. Gabriel said that Dean is just showing off, but Castiel doubts it. From his perspective, he’s just being included in Dean’s life and he’s very thankful for it.

So much so, in fact, that he’s felt a little lonely over the last few days just from how busy Dean has been. They haven’t been texting as often as usual because of how busy he’s been. Castiel understands, of course. He’s been busy in different ways. He and Gabriel don’t do much for the holidays. All they did was exchange gifts, have a Christmas cake that Gabriel made, and that was it. They did give their employees the sleighs this week, and it went over rather well.

In hindsight, they really should have done more for their employee considering how absolutely _amazing_ they’ve been this week. Everyone showed up for their shifts and not a single person even hinted at trying to pretend that they’re sick. No one even asked to take vacation time. It’s a little weird that they didn’t, as both he and Gabriel fully expected at least _Balthazar_ to back out of his shift. Perhaps the holiday pay is too good?

Whatever the reason, Castiel is grateful for it. Everyone showing up for their shifts meant Gabriel didn’t have to do double duty. And that means he wasn’t too tired to help make Dean’s Christmas present. Normally Castiel would have put the gift together on his own, but this required _magic_ and that’s not quite his forte. At least not _this_ type of magic. It’s a spell that has been condensed into a round physical form no bigger than a golf ball.

At the moment, Dean’s present is tucked carefully into a little box under the counter. That’s where it’s going to stay until he comes in tonight. Castiel has to be very careful not to jostle the box or drop the ball inside. Doing so would set off the spell and he will absolutely _die_ if that happens without Dean being present to witness what happens. Actually, Gabriel might be the one to kill him. He did, after all, pour every bit of his knowledge into making this spell so it could affect actual matter. It’s a bastardized version of the spell that hides Castiel’s wings.

Of course he helped Gabriel to the best of his ability. Castiel even used his own blood and used what little magic he has himself to ground the spell. Putting it all together left them both exhausted for the better part of a day. But it’s done now and Castiel doesn’t have to worry about finding Dean a gift. He’s still going to worry about how well it will be received, but that’s less nerve wracking than the unknown.

Regardless, Castiel is still rather antsy and he’s certain that won’t calm down until Dean comes in. He’s so worked up with excitement that he’s stress cleaned the whole café in the first few hours of his shift. Granted, he did take it over a few hours earlier than normal so Anna could go home early. Not only that, but he’s also had the time to fold his nightly ten cranes, string them up, and attach them to the ceiling. The box of origami dragons has been refilled too, leaving Castiel with nothing more to do than sit at the counter and check reviews on cat trees while one of his knees bounces at a ridiculous speed.

As of yet, he has not found a cat tree that he finds to be both visually pleasing _and_ sturdy. On the bright side, it’s keeping him busy; although it does nothing to stop him from glancing at the clock every so often to check for Dean. He grows more and more nervous as the minute hand ticks past two o’clock, then two-thirty, then three o’clock.

What if Dean isn’t able to make it tonight? Castiel should have texted him earlier to get an estimate of when he would stop by. He kicks himself for not doing that before and pulls out his phone to check and make sure that he didn’t miss any messages. Of course there’s nothing. Perhaps Dean is out on a call? Castiel chews his bottom lip before starting to type a message asking if he’ll be by tonight. Hopefully Dean won’t think he’s being annoying with this.

Before he’s even finished typing, the bell above the door chimes. Castiel glances up out of habit and immediately feels foolish for worrying. The door swings closed behind none other than Dean himself. There’s snow dusting his shoulders and hair, but it has no effect on his smile. Even his cheeks are rosy red and Castiel wonders if that’s from exertion or if there’s a wind outside.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean lifts his hand in a wave before brushing the snow off. “Merry Christmas!”

“It’s after midnight.” Castiel smiles and deletes the message he had been typing. “Technically speaking, it’s boxing day now.”

That gets a laugh out of him and Dean rolls his eyes. “Oh jeez, _my bad_.”

He wrinkles his nose with his laugh and Castiel can’t stop smiling at how adorable it is. It’s all he can do not to laugh too. “Welcome back, Dean. How has your day been?”

“Busy.” With a sigh, Dean approaches the counter and runs a hand over his face. “I literally _just_ finished all the paperwork from the calls we did today like five minutes ago. I’ve been surviving on shitty coffee all day and I hope to hell you’ve got something better for me. Please?”

If there’s one thing Castiel is actually good for, it’s coffee. “Of course we do, and I even set aside a box of Gabriel’s sugar cookies for you. We sold out well before midnight.” To emphasis his point, he gestures at the very nearly empty display case.

“You’re a peach, Cas.” He smiles brightly and leans forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spot I could grab a quick five minute nap too? I didn’t know it was possible to be _this_ tired.”

“Actually, I always fancied myself as more of a strawberry.” Castiel steps to the side to start the drip for Dean’s coffee. He refuses to give Dean anything but fresh coffee. If it wasn’t made in the last fifteen minutes, then it’s not good enough for his friend.

Dean snorts and pulls his wallet out. “Yeah, and what’s Gabriel?”

Well that’s easy. “A banana, obviously.” He sets out a cup and one of the dragons to attach to it. “And put that away. No firefighter pays for their own coffee on Christmas at this café.

“Thanks, Cas!” Dean throws his head back with a laughs, but does as he’s told. “You’re the best. Just one more question, though. If you’re a strawberry and Gabe is a banana, then what am I?”

That’s a very good question. Castiel regards Dean over the top of the coffee machine for a few moments before reaching his decision. “A blueberry.”

After a moment of silence, Dean gasps and puts a hand to his chest, adopting an expression of wounded shock. “I can’t believe you would say that about me!” Though he tries to look offended, it doesn’t last for long before he breaks into another loud laugh. It’s a delight to listen to and Castiel is happy to have been the cause behind it.

Dean takes a few moments to get himself under control again. With the rest of the pot still needing to drip, Castiel decides there’s no better time than now to give Dean his Christmas gift. His heart is in his throat as he gets the box and heads around the counter.

“Here, this is for you.” Castiel holds the box out, squeezing it so his hand doesn’t shake.

Surprise flickers quick across Dean’s face before he smiles brightly. “Aw, Cas. You didn’t have to!”

Well that’s just blatantly untrue. “Of course I did. You started it by giving me that mug.” Castiel gestures towards the counter and the mug he has next to his laptop. He’s been using it all night and, in hindsight, using that tonight probably didn’t help with his overall nervousness. “Now open your gift.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls the top off the little box. He turns it over into his other hand and puts the box on the counter. After a moment of inspecting the little ball, he looks up at Castiel and raises an eyebrow. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, Cas, but I have no idea what this is. My best guess is that it’s a bath bomb from Lush.”

“I don’t know what either of those things are, but no.” He really didn’t expect Dean to know what it was, but this is still amusing. “But I’ll show you how to use it. Come over here.”

Castiel takes Dean by the elbow and guides him a little ways from the counter. Gabriel had placed an ‘X’ on the floor with clear tape to show where the ball should be dropped. It’s the most ideal location for the spell to take effect and to watch what it does. He turns Dean to face the menu board on the wall, making sure that the hand with the ball is more or less positioned above the mark on the floor.

Once satisfied, Castiel points down at the ‘X’. “Now I want you to drop it.”

“I’m sorry?” Now both of Dean’s eyebrows are raised and he looks at Castiel with nothing more than confusion. “You want me to throw my gift on the floor?”

“Absolutely.” He nods and smiles brightly, fighting the urge to bounce with excitement. They worked so hard on this give and Gabriel made sure that it would be _flashy_. Most magic is rather subtle, but Castiel knew Dean would like it to be showy. “Do it.”

Dean squints at him with all manner of suspicion, but does as he’s told. The moment the ball hits the ground, there’s a poof of smoke and a bang like a firecracker that has them both jumping in surprise. They take a step back together, their eyes on what is now nothing more than a pile of coloured ash on the floor. Dean sucks in a sharp gasp and grabs Castiel’s arm with both hands as multiple tendrils made up of thousands of twinkling lights start to weave up and out of the ash.

Honestly, Castiel didn’t know what was going to happen. Gabriel took care of the actual construction of the spell and what it would do. He’s just as entranced as Dean is while watching the lights undulate across the café to drag across the menu board. Dean swears under his breath as the letters that currently read _‘Dead Eye’_ start to change. Technically speaking, that’s Dean’s usual order – a black coffee with three shots of espresso. A surprisingly large amount of people have ordered the same drink since the café opened and Gabriel looked up what it’s called so he could add it to the board.

The menu board is hand written, but it doesn’t get changed very often. Castiel can count on one hand how many times they’ve change that sign since they opened, and that’s why this spell is so significant. It takes the letters for the _‘Dead Eye’_ , making them morph and multiply until they read _‘The Dean Winchester_ ’, leaving the explanation of the drink untouched underneath.

“Holy _shit_.” Dean hisses as the lights slowly fade away. He tightens his grip on Castiel’s arm momentarily before he lets go. “Did you do that?”

“Gabriel helped.” Castiel shrugs and ducks his head. “But that’s your Christmas gift. I hope you like it?”

“You – you – you named a thing after me!” Dean points dramatically at the board before he turns and pulls Castiel into one of the tightest hugs he’s ever had the pleasure of having.

It almost lifts him off his feet and makes it a little difficult to breathe, but Castiel likes it. He leans into it for a moment and waits until Dean lets him go. If he could, he would return the hug, but his arms are currently pinned to his sides.

Eventually, Dean steps back with one of the biggest smiles Castiel has ever seen. “This is the best gift _ever_ , Cas. Thank you so much!”

“I find that doubtful.” And yet he’s still rather pleased to hear that. “You _did_ get tickets to see one of your favourite bands.”

“Those don’t count.” He shakes his head and looks excitedly at the sign again. “Seriously, Cas. This is just – this is amazing. This is _awesome_. No one’s ever named after me before! And the magic? I mean, seriously Cas. _Wow_. That was just – holy _shit_.”

Dean is acting like this is the first time he’s ever seen magic before. It’s not, but Castiel isn’t going to squabble over something like that with him, especially as he finds that he can’t stop smiling himself. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Of course I do! Cas, I _love_ it.” He drops a heavy hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I wish you’d warned me! I would have loved to videotape that. No one is going to believe me when I tell them about this.”

“That’s half the fun.” Castiel hums and starts to lean into the touch before he catches himself. It doesn’t matter, because Dean pulls him into another hug; his arms wrapping around his shoulders. This is the kind of hug that Castiel can return. He does it hesitantly, but with enthusiasm. Dean’s hugs are fantastic; solid and warm. They’re so nice, but he stops himself from leaning into this second one and he ends it at what he believes to be an acceptable amount of time.

“Seriously, Cas, thank you. And tell Gabe thanks for me too. I really loved this.” There’s a light in Dean’s eyes that Castiel can only call delight as he steps back again to grin up at the menu board. “Plus you’re giving me free cookies and coffee tonight? I swear, you’re spoiling me.”

“It seems so, doesn’t it?” Castiel ducks back behind the counter to get started on those aforementioned coffees. “I quite like it, actually.”

He didn’t really intend to say that, but it makes Dean blush. Castiel smiles at it and holds up an empty cup. “Who else is working tonight? I’ll make their favourites, also for free.”

“Careful, Cas. The firefighters might love you for this.”

“I expect them to.”

Castiel starts with pouring Dean’s coffee. He does the other ones as Dean lists off the handful of others on duty tonight. While he’s working, Dean keeps himself busy with taking pictures of the menu board. One of which is a selfie to show just how excited he is to have his name up there. Once all the coffees are put together on the tray, Castiel takes a moment to tie a dragon to the lid of Dean’s cup. This one is also made with the holiday design paper that Gabriel had given to him before. All of Dean’s dragons this month have been made from that packet.

“Here you go.” Castiel slides the box of cookies and the tray of coffee across the counter. “Merry Christmas to you and everyone at the station.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean lowers his phone and flashes a bright smile at him. “This really has been the best Christmas ever!”

All nervousness and paranoia aside, Castiel would have to agree. He picks up his winged mug and takes a sip of the lukewarm coffee. “It has, hasn’t it?”

That makes Dean’s smile turn up even bright and he reaches out to tap the edge of the mug. “Hey, how about another picture? This time with you in it.”

If there’s any reason that he shouldn’t, it doesn’t occur to Castiel in the time it takes for him to cross around the counter again to stand next to Dean. They lean their heads together and he lifts his mug into the shot so they have both their gifts in frame. Dean takes a few pictures to make sure at least one of them turns out. He’s clearly giddy to have one, if his smile is anything to go by.

“Y’know, you’re pretty photogenic, Cas.” He turns his phone around for him to see.

Castiel isn’t quite sure if he agrees, but he hides his pleased smile with his mug. “Thank you.”

“You mind if I put this on Facebook?” Dean looks between the picture and Cas, eyes wide and hopeful. “I promise that I have all those security setting things that keep friends of friends from seeing my stuff. It’s strictly only the people I know and I have less than a hundred friends on there.”

Crap. Now that he _does_ take issue with. His reaction must show on his face, because Dean quickly tucks his phone away and shakes his head. “Yeah, never mind. Forget about that. I’m just going to keep it for me because no one else deserves it.”

He’s smiling, but Castiel can’t help but think that Dean must be disappointed. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No, don’t be!” Dean holds up his hands and shakes his head. “I know you’re a private person. Seriously, you don’t even have a Facebook account to start with!” He laughs and reaches out to pat Castiel on the shoulder. “The only pictures I’m going to post are the ones I took of just me. Because everyone needs to know that my name is on the board and I’m awesome.”

How is it possible for him to be so damn understanding? It’s one of Dean’s many good attributes that Castiel has come to cherish about his friend. For instance, he didn’t even have to explain himself this time. Dean came to the conclusion all on his own just from what he knows about him. That means he pays attention. He _knows_ Castiel and remembers his preferences. It just feels so nice to have someone who understands him.

“I should get back to the station. Thanks for the gifts, Cas.” Dean’s smile softens and he gives Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze. “If you want to do game night again this weekend, just text me. I’m free both nights and I don’t really have any plans.”

“How about Saturday night? That way we don’t have to worry about you getting to sleep on time.” As if Castiel was going to pass up on that. They’ve had a game night every weekend for the last few weeks and it feels wrong not to do it this time, holidays be damned.

“It’s a date.” Dean winks before breaking down into snorting laughter.

He starts reaching for the coffee on the counter and his laughter stops the moment Castiel side steps in front of it. This is entirely on impulse and outside of his comfort zone, but he’s making a concerted effort to do that more often. In this particular case, Castiel takes advantage of Dean’s outstretched arm to pull him into a loose hug. It’s not as good as the strong hugs that Dean gives, but it’s something.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” Castiel steps out of the way quickly and clears his throat. “Have a good night.”

“Y-you too.” A flush has filled Dean’s cheeks and he moves a little stiffly as he picks up his stuff. “I’ll – uh – I’ll see you later.” He ducks his head and makes a quick retreat, though not fast enough to hide the giddy smile spreading across his lips.

Castiel watches him go with a smile of his own. Maybe the best Christmas gift Dean has given him is that of his friendship. He’s certainly _very_ happy to have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are _very_ sorry for the impromptu summer hiatus. Life is very different from when GYS was first started a year ago (yes, a year! GYS is turning a year old tomorrow!) and during the summer time it was extremely difficult to find the time to finish each chapter as required for posting. 
> 
> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these next few chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Thursday – December 31 st, 2015_ **

Dean loves sleep. He really does. It’s fucking great and after an exhausting twenty-four hour shift, he usually really looks forward to sleeping for a solid eight hours before getting up to do anything. Sure, that usually means that he’s waking up around five o’clock in the afternoon, but that’s just enough sleep for him to function for as long as he needs to be awake; which is usually about another five or six hours before he passes out for the night. It might be weird sleeping habits to others, but it works just fine for him and gives Dean the exact right amount of sleeping hours that he needs to get by.

And _that_ is why he doesn’t like it when someone wakes him up earlier than needed. So it’s safe to say that he’s a few anger levels shy of straight up murder when he wakes up suddenly a good hour before his alarms go off. It takes him way too long to figure out _why_ he’s awake, but when he does he knows the blame falls squarely on Charlie and Jo. Because who _isn’t_ going to wake up with those two standing on either side of his bed and leaning over him like a pair of vultures.

“The house better be on fire.” He groans and rolls over to pull his pillow over his head.

There is just _no_ good reason for him to be awake right now. Even with his full eight hours of sleep, Dean gave himself a wide berth of time for any final touches or cleaning to the house before people are supposed to arrive. As far as Dean’s concerned, no one is supposed to get here any earlier than nine o’clock. That would still be a minimum of three hours of partying, even if people leave right after the ball drop at midnight. Granted, there’s probably another hour or two of party time after that for the majority of people. Dean _did_ say in the invitation that no one is supposed to stay any later than two o’clock in the morning because he needs his beauty sleep goddammit.

Jo worms some cold, hard thing under the blanket and presses it against Dean’s cheek. “Get up, handsome. We’ve got work to do.”

No, they don’t. Dean specifically planned his day so he could do all the work that needed to be done _after_ his alarm goes off. “You’re lying.”

Charlie starts rolling the blanket back from Dean’s shoulders, exposing them and sending goosebumps of cold across his skin. “Sorry, sweetie, but we need your help. I need you to help me pick out an outfit and Jo needs help with curling her hair.”

Yeah, no. Neither one of those fall on the list of ‘ _reasons to wake Dean Winchester_ ’. He is justifiably pissed now. “The both of you can fuck off and let me sleep.”

Dean reaches back and pulls the blanket over his head and his pillow. How come _they_ aren’t sleeping too? Charlie and Jo didn’t work yesterday, unlike him, and they don’t work today. That means they’re both on call for tonight and they work in the morning. If anyone should still be asleep, it’s _them_. Which is why it doesn’t make a bit of sense why they’re waking him up right now.

“Come on, Dean.” Jo whines and pokes him again with what he’s guessing is a hair straightener. “You always help your mom with her hair and you know I’m shit with this thing on my own. I want to look _nice_ tonight! Maybe I’ll pick up a cute guy.”

“You know –” Charlie hums and Dean feels the bed dip on her side. “Going by stereotypes alone, we really should have known you liked dick a lot earlier than we did.”

Oh sweet Christ. He is not awake enough to deal with this bullshit. “I _haven’t_ tried dick yet.” A little drunken making out doesn’t really count because that was just some over the clothes heavy petting. If his hand had been _in_ those clothes, then he’d say dick was pretty good. But he can’t say that so fuck whatever she’s trying to say right now.

Jo makes a quiet gagging noise and laughs. “TMI, you two. It’s going to take me twenty years to be as comfortable with the both of you as you already are in each other, so can you wait until I’m _not_ in the room before discussing your sex lives?”

Charlie huffs and gives Dean’s blanket a tug again. “We’re getting away from the most important topic of all! You _need_ to get up and start getting ready so we can all be super sexy tonight.”

At this point, Dean is starting to contemplate cancelling the party altogether. “I don’t wanna.”

“But your _date_ is coming tonight!” Jo makes the edge of the bed on her side bounce several times in a row, jostling him. “You have to look your best for him, don’t you?”

“It’s not a date.” Dean hisses and yanks the pillow off his head, throwing back the blanket so he can roll over and glare at the both of them. “I _will_ smother you both with this pillow if you don’t get out of my bedroom and let me _sleep_.”

His threat falls on deaf ears. Jo shrugs and pinches his thigh through the blanket. Dean kicks at her and swipes out with the pillow. “Seriously, _go_. Charlie can do you hair and I already picked my clothes out before I went to bed this morning. I’m gonna look awesome, but not if I’ve got a thousand bags under my eyes. So, like I said before, let me get my fucking _sleep_.”

If he doesn’t get that sleep, he’s going to be too tired to stay up late enough to deal with the party. As host, he’s going to be managing messes, keeping things stocked, and keeping the party going. More than that, he might have to leave the party in Sam’s hands if things with the station get bad and he ends up getting called in too. Either that or he’ll have to end it early and kick everyone out. That would suck, but if he gets called in because they’re shorthanded at the station, then so be it.

“You’re no fun.” Charlie grumbles, but she gets up and goes around the bed to stand with Jo.

“Leave me alone before I go get my gun.” Dean throws them both a glare before rolling over to put his back to them.

Jo snorts and she pokes him in the middle of his back with the straightener. “We’re _firefighters_. We don’t have guns. You’re thinking of the cops.”

“I’m American. I’m _born_ with a gun.” He flips them off and wiggles down further under his blanket. “Now get out and don’t bother me until my alarm goes off again.

They both laugh and Charlie actually has the audacity to smack him on the ass. “We’ll give you another hour before we’ll literally _drag_ you outta that bed.”

“Fuck off.”

Dean won’t deny that he’s a grumpy bitch when he’s woken before his alarm. It’s been one of his biggest pet peeves his whole life and he hates it; even when it’s just by a few minutes. Because the fact of the matter is, no matter when he’s woken up, he just can’t get back to sleep. Like right now he takes a good ten minutes to try and get back to sleep before he just flat gives up. It’s not going to happen and now he’s going to be in a bad mood until something comes along that perks things up for him.

While groaning and grumbling to himself, Dean rolls out of bed. He sits there and glares at his phone before he picks it up to turn off all of his alarms. Since he’s not going to get any sleep in the next hour, then he might as well get up and be a grumpy fuck. It’s the only thing that’s going to distract him from being nervous about tonight. No matter what Charlie was teasing about, this is _not_ a date with Cas. It’s just the first time that he’s going to be coming over to Dean’s house and it’s going to be in the middle of an awesome party. In hindsight, that’s probably the worst time for Cas to come over; and yet, Cas is coming over anyways because he’s a trooper like that.

Since he’s up, Dean decides to take his time with a shower. It’s twenty minutes of steamy delight in there while he just lets the hot water hit the back of his neck. If this wasn’t a shared shower, he’d probably have taken a chance to clean the pipes before the party. Best that he not take any chances when it comes to drinking and partying. If he gets enough booze in him, he might end up getting too close to Cas while they’re talking and he might get hard from something as easy as Cas smelling good.

The only safety measure Dean has to keep that from happening is that he’s actually not supposed to drink too much tonight anyways. He’ll be going into the party with a full stomach and he’ll space each beer with a glass of water and a snack. By this point, he’s a veteran at staving off the drunk. It’s been a long damn time since he’s had an actual hangover, and that’s all because he learned the ways and he knows his limits. The only thing he’ll really let himself have tonight is the equivalent of a light buzz.

Because he’s a good roommate, Dean decides that any so called pipe cleaning is going to be done in his bedroom after he makes sure to lock every damn door. There are just some things that Jo and Charlie don’t need to walk in on, especially since they’re both completely not respecting his personal space today. His decision is just reinforced when he finds the both of them sitting on his bed when he comes out of the bathroom still towel drying his hair.

Jo holds out the hair straightener and Charlie holds out the clothes that Dean had laid out on his desk chair this morning. She’s made one big difference though, and it comes in the shape of a leopard print _thong_. It’s the very thong that he’s had buried at the bottom of his underwear drawer since she gave it to him as a gag gift for his eighteenth birthday.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs the thong, chucking it right into the drawer it came. “Now you’re not only being annoying, you’re also being _creepy_.”

“But those are your _sexy_ pair!” She’s got her whiny voice going, but she’s smiling like the cat that got the canary; which is ironic considering that she’s technically a mythical _bird_.

He shoots her a glare and throws his damp hair towel over her face. “You’re only saying that because you’re the one that bought them for me.”

Jo tries to hide her laugh behind her hand, but Dean hears that snort. “Don’t you know that the leopard print is _so_ hot right now?”

“And you’ve never worn them!” Charlie’s bottom lip is sticking out in a pout as she pulls the towel off her head. “That’s just _tragic_.”

Good God he can’t believe that he’s having this conversation. “The both of you need to stay out of this, and my room too, for that matter.”

Charlie twists the towel up and snaps it at him. “Are you really going to start the New Year off being a grumpy pants?”

“I’m not wearing a thong to this party, or _ever_.” And he’s definitely not going to mention that Charlie got him a _woman’s_ thong. She didn’t even have the courtesy of going out and getting him a proper banana hammock for a dude. It’s not going to fit him right and he’s just not going to wear it. Ever.

Jo tuts at him and shakes her head. “Never say never, Winchester.”

“Yeah. You’re breaking my heart here.” Charlie lays a hand on her chest and fakes a swoon.

“You’re killing us here, Dean.” Jo puts the back of her hand to her forehead and sighs.

Almost immediately, Charlie turns and pushes her. “Hey, the thong thing is _my_ pain train. You’re not allowed on it!”

That first shove leads to a second, and a third, and then a headlock. Eventually, in a matter of seconds, it’s devolved into two attractive women rolling around together on Dean’s bed while they play wrestle. Once upon a time, he would’ve loved to have something like this. In fact, he still does, just not _right now_. He’s not in the mood for this bullshit and there’s a party to set up for, some cleaning to do, and a panic attack to manage about his crush coming over to his house for the first time. Things have to go _perfect_ , otherwise Cas might never want to leave his home ever again.

Okay, yeah. Dean’s not going to have any part in this. He picks up his clothes, including the underwear he’d originally picked out, and heads back into the bathroom. Any plan to try and rub one out has officially been discarded. He’s just too annoyed for anything right now. Their bathroom isn’t exactly _large_ , but Dean still gets dressed in there and he grumbles the whole fucking time. These are the people he’s chosen to live with and today he vaguely regrets it.

Dean leaves his hair to style after he’s finished getting everything set up for the party. It’s not for any particular reason besides the fact that he doesn’t feel like spending another minute in the bathroom. He goes back to it eventually, but only after he’s set up coolers along the counter in the kitchen with a ton of red solo cups, bowls of chips and pretzels, and double checked that the ancient iPod with the playlists for the night is working.

After _his_ hair is perfect, Dean resigns himself to being a stellar roommate. He helps Charlie pick a bomb outfit all while he curls Jo’s hair for her. It comes easy to him and he could probably do it without looking. When he was growing up, he really liked playing with his mom’s hair. She’d sit on the floor in front of the couch with Sam in her lap and let him do whatever the hell he wanted. He’d brush it, braid it, pigtailed it, and basically anything he could think of. And as he learned how to do more stuff, he’d practice on her just for the hell of it.

Sam’s distractions as a kid were shiny things. Dean’s was his mom’s hair. Dad has sworn on multiple occasions that it’s a goddamn miracle that Dean didn’t turn out to be a hairdresser. If Dean was being honest, he did kind of entertain it towards the end of high school, but he’d always wanted to be a firefighter and pursuing that is something he really doesn’t regret in the slightest. He thinks about that for while he adds volume to Jo’s hair. Maybe, if he ever retires from being a firefighter, just maybe he’ll go and try to be a hair stylist. Though he’s never actually _cut_ hair before and that could be a problem.

Once everything is ready and they all give each other the double thumbs up for outfits, hair, and (where it applies) make-up, they all head down to chill in the living room. The first guests are the LARPers and they show up ridiculously early; meaning that they start showing up at nine o’clock on the nose. They come in groups of threes and fours, kinda like how they usually show up to LARP events. Dean’s not surprised that they show up at the time he indicated as the start of the part on the Facebook event. Their group of LARPers are always pretty punctual people, which is needed when they’re holding an event and have lots of setup to do.

Almost their entire LARPing group eventually shows within the first fifteen minutes or so. Neither Charlie nor Dean are really surprised by that. The Montpelier LARPing community is pretty tight knit, so it’s pretty par for the course that everyone came to the same party that all their other friends were invited to. Actually, Dean was kinda depending on that. If it wasn’t for the LARPers, the party probably wouldn’t even have half the attendance that he’s projecting for tonight.

Besides that, nerds know how to party. Someone comes in with a Ping-Pong table that they take straight downstairs, and someone else comes in with a Beer-Pong game set following right behind them. It looks like the basement is going to be where all the fun is being had. Not that Dean minds, of course. It’s less of a mess up here where all the furniture and nice floors are. The basement is where most of the LARP group ends up going since that’s where there’s more space and where they know everyone.

Jo gets the music started the moment the first person is through the door. Dean decides to take up mixing drinks. The quote-unquote _bar_ is the first place most people visit when they reach a party and it’s the best way for him to greet everyone. He takes short breaks to check his phone for any messages from Cas. The first and only message he gets is closer to ten o’clock when Cas says he should be there by half past. That’s not too bad and it gives him an hour and a half to see the house and mill around before the big midnight countdown.

Honestly, though, Dean doesn’t really expect Cas to actually mingle with other people aside from his employees. That’s a small group on their own, and they arrive shortly after ten o’clock. Sam beats them by a good ten minutes when he shows up with a few of his own friends – all people that he got direct permission to bring. Unlike the rest of his co-workers, Sam doesn’t really mingle. The Graveyard Shift employees spread out through the rest of the partygoers, finding other people they know.

As far as Dean can tell from the bar, everyone seems to be having a good time. Sam got permission from their parents that he’s allowed to drink as long as Dean keeps an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t drink a lot. Sam gets a beer, but he’s never had much of an interest in the forbidden fruit like most kids his age. Bonus points to him for being the easiest brother ever to chaperone. It’s just one of the many reasons that Dean loves his little brother.

By the time ten-thirty rolls around, Cas still hasn’t shown up. Dean gets a little worried that maybe he might not actually come and he texts for an update. He gets one pretty quick about how he’s running late because something came up with Gabriel and that Cas is going to be there closer to eleven. That’s alright. As long as he gets here eventually. If he could, Dean would go pick him up if he needs it. The only problem with that being that he’s already had a few beers and doesn’t want to risk being considered driving under the influence.

Dean tries to have a good time for the half hour between those messages and when Cas is supposed to arrive. Technically speaking, he _does_ enjoy that time period but he’s also nervous as hell. He can’t stop checking his phone and eventually he breaks down a good twenty or so minutes later and sends another text message. It’s the worry wart in him that does it.

**_Hey what’cha wanna drink when you get here??_ **

Cas answers quick like a bunny. **_A beer is fine._**

That gets Dean’s hopes up because it means Cas actually _is_ on his way, probably. **_Sounds good to me. I’ll have one ready for you! Text when you’re close, ok??_**

 ** _Alright._** Cas sends one message and follows it right up with another. **_Is the party busy? Is it going well?_**

Aw, look at that. He’s _worried_. Dean can practically feel his nervousness in those words. **_Yeah it looks like it’s doing good! Everyone’s dancing and drinking and laughing lol. Pretty sure everyone is here but the star guest (you)!_**

 ** _Is that what happens at parties?_** Cas ends his message with a surprised emoji face. **_Please tell me I’m not going to be expected to dance._**

Dean laughs as he picks his way through the party to grab a couple beers. The open coolers on the counter are getting a little low on bottles and he opens another case of beer to put on ice for the next ones who need them. Once he’s satisfied, he starts a long path weaving through the partiers on a path to outside. He gets stopped by a few people, but makes an excuse to get outside. Cas is probably going to be here soon and he wants to be the first to greet him.

Finally he can answer Cas’s message. **_I want to say yes, but I’m not going to force you to dance if you don’t wanna._** He ends his message with the emoji that’s sticking its tongue out.

It’s terrible of him to think it, but he would actually _pay_ to see Cas dance. He’s hardly ever seen him actually _move_ , but everything Cas does is so graceful and he’s probably secretly a fucking great dancer. Whenever he wears a tighter shirt than his usual sweaters, Dean can tell that he’s got a nice body and some killer hips. If they get a good sway going, they could probably hypnotize any man; straight or not. Oh yeah, these are definitely thoughts that he needs to get out of his head _right now_.

Cas makes that really hard with his next message. **_I’ll consider it. And I suppose I should tell you that I’m on your street now._**

Oh good! Dean leans against the garage door and looks up and down the street, checking to see if he can see him. **_We’re the awesome house._**

It’s just a matter of seconds before he spots Cas coming up the sidewalk, his face lit by the screen of his phone. He keeps glancing down at the phone and then up at the houses he’s passing – right up until he comes to a stop right at the end of the driveway. Dean waves and takes a few steps away from the garage. Cas puts his phone away and jogs up the driveway.

His cheeks are pink from the cold and he looks downright adorable in his matching toque and mitts. “Hello, I’m looking for Dean Winchester. Is this the right house? I’m told it would be the awesome one.”

Dean laughs and holds out the beer. “You’re right on the money, Cas. How come you’re on foot?”

Instead of an answer, Cas just shrugs and takes the beer. He twists off the top with a little difficulty, like it’s not something he’s used to doing, and puts the bottle to his lips. The whole thing is gone in a matter of seconds as he fucking _chugs_ the whole thing. Dean’s jaw drops and it doesn’t even occur to him to stop Cas until he’s lowering the bottle and swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Whoa there, tiger!” He takes the bottle away, though there’s little point to it right now. “What’s the hurry here, huh?”

Cas shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I feel like I’m going to throw up. Gabriel said that alcohol is liquid courage, so I thought that would help.”

“Oh my God, Cas.” Dean groans and shakes his head. “You’re old enough to know that’s not a good thing. If anything, chugging a beer is probably what’s going to actually make you throw up. How often have you done that before?”

After an awkward pause, Cas clears his throat and looks away. “Never.”

Oh Jesus. He knew Cas was a party virgin, but he didn’t know he’d never been drinking like this before. It’s like he’s a baby lamb let loose amongst the wolves. Dean sighs and puts an arm around Cas’s shoulders. “Okay, let’s start with the basics. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Shortly before I left the house.” Cas looks back at him again, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Gabriel said it was an important thing to do before drinking. He also made sure to tell me to have plenty of water and that I should stay hydrated.”

Perfect. At least Gabriel is looking out for him. “Good, good.” He gives Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m older than you.” Cas elbows him in the ribs and Dean stumbles away laughing.

“Fine by me!” He steps over to the side of the garage and flips up the cover over the pin pad. With one hand, he shields it and quickly punches in the four digit code to open the garage door. “Well, let’s take the scenic route into the house. We can rip the band-aide off and introduce you to my roommates before giving you that tour of the house.”

Cas nods slowly and glances toward the front porch where a few of the smokers start laughing really loudly. “I – I would like that.”

First and foremost, Dean shows Cas the garage. He’s never been formally introduced to the Impala before, so that’s really the best place to start. They shut the garage door from the button inside and Dean takes a few minutes to explain what the shit in the garage is for. He doesn’t _have_ to do it, but he figures something mundane like this will help calm down Cas’s nerves somewhat.

By the time they make it into the house, Dean’s not entirely sure if the garage helped. On the bright side, Cas did remove his hat and his mitts and stuffed them into one of his pockets. As soon as they’re inside, he starts undoing the buttons on his coat and Dean counts that as a win. First up is the dining room where a bunch of people are milling about, rocking to the music but mostly talking. It’s quieter over here than it is in the living room, so this is mostly where people go to talk. Plus most of the snacks are out on the dining room table.

When they reach the kitchen, the first person they meet is Balthazar. He greets Cas with a slap on the back and hands him another beer. “You actually came! I’m quite impressed.”

“That’s what Gabriel said.” Cas rubs a hand over the back of his neck and looks around the room. He turns to Dean. “I would like to see more of the house.”

“In a sec, Cas. Here’s Charlie!” Dean reaches out and grabs her arm as she tries to make her way by with two drinks in hand.

She shoots Dean a dirty look. “You almost made me spill!”

“You’re exaggerating.” He rolls his eyes and puts an arm around her shoulders, guiding her around to face Cas. “This is my roommate, co-worker, and childhood best friend; Charlie. She’s awesome. Charlie, this is Cas and he’s equally awesome. You’ve both already met at the café probably a million times but I’m introducing you both again anyways.”

Cas has both hands wrapped around his beer bottle and Charlie’s hands are full with her mixed drinks. She grins and actually _bows_ to him. It takes Cas by surprise and he stiffly returns the gesture. Dean presses his lips together to try and keep himself from laughing. Balthazar isn’t as tactful and he snorts a laugh before Anna intervenes and drags him away. At least _someone_ is keeping an eye on him tonight. Dean wasn’t sure if he’d be trouble or not.

“It’s great to officially meet you.” Charlie gestures at Cas with one of her drinks. “Dean talks about you a lot. Pretty sure you’re his favourite person right now.”

For someone who’s supposed to be on call, Charlie sounds like she’s been drinking a lot more than she’s supposed to. Dean squeezes her shoulder harder than he should and gives her a little shove. “And that’s enough for her! Isn’t someone waiting for their drink, Charlie?”

“Oh, yes!” She lights up and takes off towards the living room. “See ya later, guys!”

Dean clears his throat and gestures for Cas to follow him. “Before we find Jo, I figure I’ll point shit out.” He points towards the three doors that can be seen from the kitchen. “That’s the laundry room, there’s the pantry, and that’s the bathroom. If you gotta go, you can use that one or there’s the one upstairs. Normally no one’s allowed up there during party time, but you get a free pass since you’re with me.” It takes him a moment to realize how that sounds and he shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

Cas just raises his eyebrows at him and takes a handful of pretzels from one of the bowls on the kitchen island. He doesn’t say a word and just munches on them silently. Maybe it’s Dean’s brain playing tricks on him, but he’s pretty sure that Cas’s chewing is being overly smug. Not sure how or not, but it’s definitely possible. Time to distract from what Dean is starting to feel is an awkward moment! He slings an arm around Cas’s shoulder and starts guiding him towards the living room.

“I think Jo is in the basement. We’ll just pop down there to see here and then I’ll show you the upstairs.” He flashes Cas a grin and tilts his head. “Sound good?”

“Let me just –” Cas takes a second to down his whole bottle of beer before he tosses it in the recycling bin in the corner of the kitchen and grabs another from the cooler on the counter. “Okay, let’s go.”

It looks like Dean is going to have to keep an eye on him. He’s no stranger to the sauce himself, and he’s had some wild nights when he was younger, but Cas said he doesn’t drink much – if ever. If he’s a lightweight, that could cause some big problems in another hour or so, especially if he keeps drinking like a fish out of water.

Despite that, Cas doesn’t actually pop his third beer until after they’ve been downstairs to meet Jo. It’s a quick meeting there, considering she’s right in the middle of a doubles beer pong game so someone else does the drinking for her while she just throws the ball. She’s on call too and it’s good that she’s not getting drunk. One or two drinks would be okay, but beer pong could kick her ass if she let it. He’s seen her play it before and she’s pretty good, more or less.

They don’t stay too long in the basement. There’s a lot of people crammed down there, some dancing and everyone laughing or talking loudly. Cas doesn’t seem to like it a whole lot. When he’s smiles, Dean can tell that it’s pretty strained. It’s basically his customer service smile when he’s dealing with difficult customers and it’s really not the kind of smile that Dean wants to see here. Plus, Cas spends their whole time in the basement standing particularly close to Dean’s side.

Cas chugs his third beer before they make it back upstairs and he makes the choice decision to duck back to the kitchen to grab another one. Dean frowns and grabs a bottle of water. “Here, have this first. You’ve been here five minutes and you’ve already had three beers. You might want to slow down a bit there, buddy.”

“There are more people than I thought there would be.” He glances around at the people dancing in the living room and the ones grouped in the dining room.

Aw, okay. He’s maybe just a little bit adorable when he’s fidgety like this. “You getting nervous?”

“No.” Cas shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He grabs another handful of pretzels and crams a few in his mouth; talking around them. “I was nervous well before I even got here.”

“Well, I know how to fix that.” Dean puts the bowl back on the counter and puts an arm around Cas’s shoulders again. “Let’s head somewhere quiet with less people around.”

Cas perks up at that suggestion. “Home?”

“I meant _upstairs_ , you dork.” Dean sticks his tongue out and Cas crinkles his nose at him. It’s fucking adorable and Dean has to step back. He’s been taking advantage of the minimal space at the party and Cas’s own nervousness as an excuse to keep touching him and that’s _bad_. He needs to not do that and just – just wait until Cas makes a move or something. Which might be never, but Dean sure as hell won’t make the first move until he’s _sure_ that Cas would be open to it.

Before they head up to the second floor, Dean polishes off what remains of his own beer and grabs another. They squeeze past the main leg of the party in the living room to get to the stairs by the front door. The TV is on, but muted so people can still at least _see_ what’s happening with the big New Year’s Eve festival happening down in New York. When it gets close to midnight, they’re going to turn off the music and turn up the TV so everyone can watch the countdown.

Cas visibly relaxes the moment they’re upstairs and he finds that there’s not a single person up there. Dean points out Charlie’s room, Jo’s bedroom, and even walks him through the bathroom just so he’ll know where it is before they finally make it through to his bedroom.

He spreads his arms and spins around. “And last but certainly not least, we have the room where all the magic happens!”

“It’s just as tidy as I expected it to be.” Cas looks around as he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over Dean’s bed. “If there weren’t so any people downstairs, I’m sure that it would be just as clean.”

As if Dean would deny that. “If I keep my space clean and organized, it’s easier to do the same with the rest of my life.” He shrugs and drops into the desk chair. “I’ve always been a bit of a neat freak ever since I was a kid. Thank God I never had to share a room with Sam growing up. He’s so messy!”

“Aw, that’s adorable!” Cas grins at Dean, though it’s a little shaky, and takes a swig of his beer.

Dean laughs and gestures for Cas to take a seat on the bed. And that’s not just because he’s maybe sorta fantasized on more than one occasion about having Cas in his bed. Shit. Those are not thoughts he should be having right now and he takes a long draught from his own beer to help wash them away. Thankfully, Cas takes his time with eventually sitting down. First he takes a walk around the bedroom, looking at the pictures he’s got up on the walls and a cursory glance at the bookcase.

Good thing Dean put away all his origami stuff this morning. Tomorrow he’s supposed to give Cas an origami snail and all his practice ones went into the recycling where no one will ever find them. All the papers are stashed in a desk drawer and hopefully Cas isn’t the kind of snoop that will go looking through them. If Cas is going to find any origami in this room, it’s going to be the dragons sitting along the top shelf of Dean’s desk.

Those are probably the last things that Cas actually spots and it’s just as he’s sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Those are – Have you kept _all_ of them?”

“Sure did!” He nods and hopes that Cas doesn’t pick one up to check it out. If he does, he might see that Dean dated each one and he might just find that to be maybe just a little weird.

“Why?” Cas tilts his head and glances between the dragons and Dean.

Oh God. He definitely can’t tell Cas it’s because he’s got a massive crush on him so Dean’s saving each and every little thing that he’s given him over the time they’ve known each other. Yeah, he definitely can’t do that. Best to do something nice and Dean clears his throat with a cough and shrugs. “Because they’re really nice? I don’t want to just throw them out.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Cas ducks his head and makes a show of looking through the neck of his bottle.

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t keep a dragon if I folded one for you?” And that’s the closest Dean’s going to get to telling Cas that he’s the one leaving the origami for him every Saturday – for now.

He’s almost positive that a blush is tinging the tops of Cas’s ears. “I – Maybe?”

Dean gasps and puts a hand to his heart as he sags back against the desk. “ _Ouch_.”

“You already gave me a mug.” Cas looks up and shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to give me anything. Especially not an origami dragon.”

With a snort, Dean gestures back over his shoulder. “Like I would even know how to fold a dragon. The only origami I know how to make are those silly little fortune teller things that every kid ends up learning back in school.”

A frown creases Cas’s forehead. “I was home schooled.”

“Oh my God.” Dean reaches over and grabs a piece of paper from his printer. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Cas just blinks at him and Dean rolls over to sit next to the bed. “Okay, watch this.”

He puts his beer aside and starts with folding one corner of the paper to the other side of the page to make a square. With some creative folding and ripping, he pulls off the extra un-needed edge to the page and puts it aside. Cas watches as Dean folds corner to corner and then unfolds it to put the corners towards the center. He flips it over and folds the corners to the center again. With that done, Dean rolls back to the desk and grabs a pen.

“What are you doing now?” Cas leans back on one hand and tilts back more of his beer.

“Turning it from a fun piece of paper into a fortune teller.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows and starts writing colours on the outside squares. “And now the numbers.” He opens it up and writes the numbers one through nine along the inside ring. “Okay, don’t look. I’m adding the fortunes now.”

With a sigh, Cas gets up and goes over to the bookcase to give the titles a better look through. Dean still uses his arm to shield the fortune teller while he writes. It’s just a bunch of silly dumb things. Things like _never eat yellow snow_ or _Thursday will be a lucky day for you_. Dumb stuff like that. He fills up each of the nine slots and then closes everything up again.

“Alright, done!” He gets it set up on his fingers and gestures for Cas to come sit down again.

“How does it work?” Cas drops back into the same spot and uses the bottle to point at the fortune teller. “Are you going to tell my fortune now?”

Dean grins and nods. “Yup. Now first, pick a colour.” He holds it out for Cas to look it over.

After a moment of contemplation, he reaches out and taps one of the squares. “Blue.”

Okay, good. Dean opens and closes the fortune teller in the two different directions, showing off the different numbers inside. He counts out each letter of the colour blue and holds it open on the letter _E_. “Now you need to pick a number.”

Cas looks his options over and taps one of them. “Seven, please.” After Dean flips through the two directions again while counting, he gets to choose again. “Four?”

“Fortune time!” Dean unfolds the whole thing to read the fortune hidden underneath four. “This is going to be your lucky year!”

“How do you know?” He narrows his eyes and gives Dean the most suspicious look ever.

Dean shrugs and folds it back up again before handing it to Cas. “Because that’s how it works. Now it’s my turn. Give me my fortune!”

With a hum, Cas holds his beer between his knees and gets the origami set up on his fingers. He tries a few practice openings and closings before he holds it out to Dean. His choices are quick; green, nine, and two. He honestly doesn’t know which number has which fortune, but he has a feeling he knows which one it is just by Cas’s reaction when he opens it open to take a look.

He raises both eyebrows and some colour fills his cheeks. “You – um – you’re going to get lucky tonight, apparently.” Cas holds it out for Dean to see.

Oh sweet Jesus. Dean can feel the heat rising in his face and he swallows back a groan. Why in the hell did he think it would be a good idea to write _that_ in? He clears his throat and shrugs. “Well, that’s good. I guess.” He grabs the fortune teller and chucks it back towards the desk. “Don’t need that anymore.”

“Did all of those have something to do with luck?”

“Most of them.” Dean turns away to grab his beer, suddenly really needing to quench his thirst. “Those are usually the vaguest things you can put in. Basically you put whatever you want in it. Nice stuff, mean stuff, vague stuff. Whatever.

He knocks back the last of his beer and wiggles the empty bottle at Cas. “D’you wanna head back downstairs now and try some dancing?”

Cas looks away and sips at his own half-full bottle. “I don’t dance.”

“Lies.” Dean shakes his head and stands up. “You have killer hips and they were meant for dance.” And he may or may not want to _really_ see Cas moving and grooving.

“You’re being ridiculous again.”

Big whoop. According to some people, he’s _always_ ridiculous, and Dean doesn’t see a problem with that. What he _does_ see a problem with is that people talk and sometimes they don’t always talk about the truth. “Well, the longer we stay up here, the more people are going to talk.”

Cas’s head whips around so he can squint at him. “What are they going to talk about?”

Seriously? Does Cas not have any actual clue about what Dean’s talking about here? He raises his eyebrows at him and waits. Cas doesn’t live under a rock. He’s gotta understand that when two people disappear upstairs for too long during a party, it usually means that certain _things_ are going to be happening up there.

It takes Cas around three seconds for him to figure it out. He pops off the bed like there’s a fire lit under his ass, and maybe that fire can be blamed for how red his face gets. “Let’s go.”

Dean huffs and shoves his chair back in place at the desk. “Y’know, there are worse people you could be talked about with.”

“That sentence makes no sense and there’s nothing for them to talk about.” Cas starts for the door and he doesn’t look back. “I need another beer.”

“Not until you finish that bottle of water I gave you.” He won’t deny that he’s at least a little disappointed with how Cas is reacting even just to a joke that they might be up to no good. With a sigh, Dean finds the water where Cas tucked it into a pocket of his coat and tosses it to him. “Here, drink that first and go snack on some chips. Then you can have another beer.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder as he squeezes past him to go out into the hall. They head back downstairs and no one even bothers to give them a second glance. That’s a little disappointing too, but it’s better than Cas getting embarrassed enough to want to leave early. He still seems nervous and he sticks close to Dean for the rest of the hour. They find themselves a nice corner of the living room where they can lean their heads together while they drink, snack, and sway to the music.

With how loud it is in the living room, it’s pretty much impossible to have any kind of meaningful conversation. Instead, Dean takes the time to point people out to Cas. People like Sam’s friends, or some folks that he went to school with when growing up. It’s not a lot, but it’s better than just standing together not saying anything. At this point, they’re just waiting for the countdown and having a good time while they’re doing it.

It only takes one more beer and the bravado of a good beat of music to get Dean’s flirt meter turned up to eight. He’s not sure if he means to or if it’s just because of the music being too loud, but everything Dean says is basically said right into Cas’s ear. On the bright side, Cas doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he keeps leaning in to try and hear better. At least he _looks_ like he’s trying to have a good time. He laughs and smiles at any of Dean’s jokes, and he at least nods in greeting whenever someone comes up and Dean has to introduce them.

Every smile boosts Dean’s confidence just that little bit more. He doesn’t even know if the only reason those smiles are because of all the beers Cas has had. Sometimes it’s really hard to read him. It’s definitely gotten easier over the few months that they’ve known each other, that’s for sure. But Cas is smiling and that’s all that matters to Dean. He wants him to have a good time and it at least _looks_ like he is. And they haven’t even gotten to dancing yet!

Midnight is just under fifteen minutes away when they finally both end up having their drinks empty at the same time. This is his moment and Dean grabs it as soon as he realizes it. He takes both their empty bottles and puts them on the nearest flat surface. “Alright, Cas. Time to dance!”

“Dean, I don’t –” Cas grits his teeth as Dean grabs him by the arm and drags him out into the middle of the living room, elbowing his way to through the dancing ground. “I don’t _dance_.”

“I refuse to believe that you’ve never _Risky Business_ ’ed your way from your kitchen to the living room.” He starts rocking his hips to the beat, moving his hands like he’s shaking maracas because it’s a classic move that never goes out of style.

Cas just stands there and stares at him blankly. Dean sighs and starts shuffling his feet too, moving side to side in short little steps. “Okay, let’s add that to the list of movies I’m mentally making that we need to watch together some day.”

He gestures for Cas to start moving too, but all he gets is rolled eyes in return. “I need another beer.”

Dean shakes his head and moves over to block him from getting to the kitchen. “Nope, no more beers. It’s almost midnight and you’re going to start out the New Year being awesome.”

“I’m always awesome.” Cas crosses his arms and tries to frown at him. It’s hard to do when there’s a smile creeping in.

“Damn right you are!” He laughs and pulls Cas’s arms free. “Now dance with me.” Dean takes him by the wrists and starts moving Cas’s arms back and forth until he’s got his shoulders moving. “Good, good. Now get your hips in here too.”

Cas shakes his head and bites back a laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Hah! Dean is just getting started with the ridiculous train. “Either you move them yourself, or I’m going to have to move them for you.”

It takes a few moments, but eventually Cas sighs and starts mirroring how Dean wiggles his hips to the beat. He’s not terrible at it, but he’s definitely not good and that’s entirely Dean’s fault there. If he’s going to be honest, he’s not the greatest dancer either. At least not on his own. It’s a lot easier to dance with a partner when you’re pressed together and swaying to the music. Grinding is hardly a decent dance form, but it makes him look like a good dancer compared to what he’s doing now. Maybe one day, if he plays his cards right, he can teach Cas how to dance like that too.

This isn’t about dancing well, though. This is about having a good time and Dean starts getting silly with his dancing. It makes Cas laugh and he shakes his head, but he does the same until they’re both wiggling along to the music like a pair of upright worms. Sure, they look ridiculous, but at least they’re having fun! And considering how everyone else starts doing it around them, they’re not the only ones.

The only thing that gets everyone to stop is when someone shouts over the music that the countdown is starting soon. After that it’s a scramble to turn off the music and turn on the TV’s sound. Everyone from the basement comes upstairs and that’s Dean’s cue to get Cas out of the way. Literally every person at the party is trying to squish into the living room and the kitchen, all so they can be part of the countdown. There are people on the porch and they’re all grouping up near the window, watching from outside. At least it leaves more room inside everyone else.

As soon as the people from downstairs start coming up, Cas gets a little wild eyed. Dean wastes zero time in dragging him towards the stairs to the second floor. They can stand on those and watch from behind the banister, or they can even stand close to the front door in case Cas starts feeling a little claustrophobic. Dean will do basically anything that’ll keep Cas comfortable. Which is why he figures there’s one big thing he needs to touch on right now.

“Hey, you know about the tradition, right?” He elbows Cas in the side and gestures at all the people who are starting to pair off; holding hands, or putting their arms around each other.

Cas crinkles his nose slightly, but he nods. “Yes, I know that people kiss at midnight.”

Damn. He’d kinda been hoping that Cas would be the one to suggest that _they_ kiss at midnight so he won’t have to kiss anyone else. That was a stretch, but he couldn’t help hoping at least a tiny little bit for it. “Well, just so you know, you’re not obligated to do it.”

“I might punch anyone who tries.” To emphasize his point, Cas rubs his knuckles. That lasts for all of a few seconds before he starts twisting his hands nervously.

Dean puts his arm around Cas’s shoulders again and gives them a squeeze. “I know how to make sure no one tries to steal your first kiss of the year. Just hug me when the ball drops.”

Maybe it’s his imagination, maybe it’s the beer, but Dean is almost positive that Cas leans into side. “That is an acceptable alternative. Thank you.”

Oh Jesus, he _is_ leaning into him. Dean’s sure of it now and it’s starting to make him light headed. His heart is pounding in his ears, drowning out the rest of the party. Even though it’s just going to be a hug, he’s pretty damn happy to be getting it. Since he started planning the party, Dean really wasn’t expecting to get anything from Cas at the stroke of midnight. But now he’s going to get a _hug_ and he has never been more excited for one of those.

It’s amazing enough that Cas is here in the first place, let alone that he’s just agreed to hug him. Dean is just about ready to die and it’s all he can do to keep himself from jumping and clicking his heels together like he’s straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. There’s a buzz going on between his ears that’s mostly the fault of all the beer he’s had, but it’s also in part to how jittery his insides get when he’s close to Cas.

Dean almost misses the beginning of the countdown when it starts. Everyone starts shouting out the countdown and he jostles Cas’s shoulders to get him in on it too. Cas laughs and calls out the last few numbers, even throwing his arm in the air as everyone shouts _Happy New Year_ together. His grin is wide and just downright fucking _gorgeous_ when he turns to him. Then his arms are around Dean’s waist and pulling him into the best hug of the whole damn year.

He’s never had a better hug than this. Dean arms are tight around Cas’s shoulder, clinging to him maybe more than just a little bit. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do, but Dean also takes the chance to bury his face against Cas’s shoulder. This isn’t the first time he’s noticed it tonight, but Cas smells fucking _amazing_. Seriously, it should be a crime to smell this good.

When they pull back from one another, they’re both smiling wide. To Dean’s surprise, he’s not the only one who doesn’t immediately let go right away. His hands end up on Cas’s shoulders, and Cas’s hands end up on his hips. He’s not entirely sure what that means, but he likes it and he’s really tempted to step in for another hug.

The room is still a riot of noise; people talking and laughing and kissing. Dean has to lean in for Cas to hear him. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Cas’s eyes dip to watch Dean’s lips and then he laughs, shaking his head. “I can honestly say that this has been one of the best New Year’s Eves that I’ve had in ages.”

Why was Cas just looking at his lips? Most people look at the other person’s lips when they want to kiss them, right? At least, that’s usually the reason Dean doesn’t it. Sometimes it’s because he can’t really hear them and he’s trying to read their lips. Other times it’s because it can be pretty interesting to watch how someone forms their words. The question now is which of those reasons was behind Cas’s brief glance just now?

That puts the idea of kissing Cas into his head again and Dean can’t help looking down at his lips. He’s still smiling and it’s just so goddamn _captivating_. Cas looks so good when he smiles, and especially when it makes his nose crinkle up. God, that smile is _right there_ and it’s just so tempting. The buzz between his ears keeps Dean from realizing that he’s leaning in again. What he’s doing doesn’t hit him until he’s just a few inches away from full on kissing Cas, his head tilted and eyes half closed, ready and waiting to close that list bit of distance.

By that point, that attractive smile that blinded him is gone. Dean jerks back with a start because _fuck_ he didn’t mean to do that. Cas jumps back out of the hug like he’s dodging a punch instead of a kiss. This is it. This is the moment Dean ruins everything. It was bound to happen at some point, but he was kinda hoping that it never would. And especially not because he’d been drinking and just got swept up in the moment, because that’s the stupidest fucking reason _ever_.

Dean swears under his breath. “I’m sorry, Cas. That was –”

“I need to go now.” Cas cuts him off with a shake of his head and he turns sharply.

He’s out the door before Dean can even try and finish his sentence. There goes any and all chances he had of even trying to explain why he maybe just tried to kiss him. Dean groans and shoves his hands through his hair. Fuck that stupid fortune teller. It’s a goddamn crock of shit because this is the exact _opposite_ of getting lucky. At this point, Dean is ninety-nine percent certain that if he doesn’t go after Cas right the fuck now and get out some kind of explanation, then he’s going to lose himself a good friend.

_** ** _

**_Friday – January 1 st, 2016_ **

Castiel is fighting every urge in his body and he feels like he’s being pulled in ten different directions. One of those directions wants him to stop and throw up on the side of Dean’s driveway. Another wants him to squat right in the middle of it and do his best not to have a panic attack. His heart is pounding in his throat and it really does feel like he’s going to throw up any minute now.

This night didn’t start out as great as he’s led Dean to believe. Castiel was late because of how nervous he was. If it wasn’t for Gabriel’s encouragement, he might never have made it out the front door. Though, it really didn’t help that he also gave him a pack of condoms and a tin of breath mints with the instructions that he shouldn’t come home until sunrise. He was all winks and nudging and insisting that he have a _good time_ with Dean.

Castiel left the condoms behind and left the café because of that comment alone. He didn’t want to be in the same building with Gabriel after that. The breath mints he kept because he didn’t want to be talking to people with beer breath. Though, really, that turned out to be the least of his worries. He thought it was bad enough that he was incredibly nervous about attending this party full of mostly strangers. But then Dean had to go and make that joke about the two of them being up in his bedroom for too long.

He never took Gabriel seriously whenever he insisted that Dean flirts with him. Castiel never believe him when Gabriel said he was _convinced_ that Dean likes him like _that_. But this – this _thing_ that just happened – it’s changed everything. Castiel is positive that Dean was leaning in to kiss him just now. Dean was going to kiss him and he has no earthly idea if it’s because of the New Year’s Eve tradition that you kiss at midnight, or if it was because he’d had too many beers.

Whatever the reason, Castiel is freaking out and he can’t stop to think much less stop to appreciate the fireworks that are going off on a lawn down the street. Everything is a blur around him so much so that he doesn’t notice Dean until he’s grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to a stop at the end of the drive way. Both of them are breathing hard; their breath coming out in great white clouds.

“Holy  shit, Cas, hold up!” Dean moves to block him from the sidewalk.

No, no, no. He can’t do this right now. “I really need to go home now.” Castiel shakes his head and tries to go around him. “Gabriel stayed up late to let me come to this and keep the café open. I need to – I shouldn’t – He’s waiting for me.”

“Okay, Cinderella.” He takes a deep breath and lets go of Castiel’s arm, holding both of his hands up.  “Can you just calm down for a sec? You’re starting to sound like you need a paper bag to breathe into.”

Though the urge to run is making the muscles in his legs twitch, he refrains from moving. At the very least, Dean deserves the chance to make an argument for whatever it was he just tried to do back there. Although Castiel would _really_ like it if Dean would say that he was just leaning in for another hug and he just read the situation wrong is all.

“You’re in no state to drive right now, Cas.”

“I didn’t drive.” He looks up the street and wonders if maybe he should go wait at the corner and call for Gabriel to come and get him instead. “I walked here.”

Dean rubs a hand across his mouth before he drops them to hug himself. “Okay, that’s pretty impressive given that it’s winter out and it’s at least a thirty minute walk to the station from here. I may not know what you are, but I bet even you’re going to get cold walking home without your coat.”

He has a point there, but Castiel really doesn’t want to stay around any longer than he needs to. Right now he needs to put some space between him and Dean. What he needs most right now is some time alone and the chance to calm down so he can think about his properly. At this particular moment, Castiel is just having a really hard time trying to find some way to rationalize why Dean almost kissed in back there. There has to be a good reason for it besides his friend trying to _kiss_ him.

“Please, just, come back to the house and get your coat at least?” Dean starts rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “I swear I won’t try and do that again.”

Castiel’s heart jolts painfully in his chest. That’s basically an admission that Dean _did_ try to kiss him, or at the very least that he _wanted_ to kiss him. There’s a storm of emotions building behind his ribs and the only one that he dares to grasp onto right now is betrayal. Dean is supposed to be his _friend_. Has that all been a ruse right from the beginning? How long has Dean wanted to kiss him? Nick made his intentions with Castiel obvious from the start, but did Dean befriend him for the same reasons? Was his friendship purely so he could get into his pants or did the desire to kiss him develop _after_ they became friends and Dean is merely acting on them because of the situation with New Year’s Eve?

There are just so many questions and the only one that actually comes out of Castiel’s mouth is a single word; “Why?”

Dean is shivering, but he lowers his head and he won’t meet Castiel’s eyes. “I just – I guess I got swept up in the moment and everything.”

What he hates the most about that answer is that he can’t tell if Dean is telling the truth or not. Castiel hates that now he’s suspicious of his friend and everything that they’ve done together since September. He hates all of this and his heart hurts. It hurts and he wants to cry; cry and throw up and hug Nike while never leaving his bedroom again. But what he hates most of all is that he’s probably making a bigger deal of this than he probably should be, and all because he’s _scared_.

“Are you going to come in and get your coat?” Dean gestures at the house, but Castiel very much does _not_ want to go back in there right now. He’s certain that if he does, everyone will be staring at him and that’s far too much attention for his liking.

When he shakes his head, Dean’s shoulders slump and he steps around him. “I’ll go get your coat. Can you just – Please promise me that you won’t leave before I get back?”

That’s the least he can do, despite how Castiel wants nothing more than to run right now. It’s hard to look at Dean directly and he glances up the street once more before nodding. Castiel hugs himself and rubs at his arms. Even he isn’t impervious to the cold. He’d likely get halfway home before really regretting his decision to leave without his coat. Besides that, even if he is angry and upset and terrified of Dean all at once, he really doesn’t want to do anything that will hurt his feelings. Dean looks hurt enough as it is whenever Castiel glances at him.

There’s hardly a minute between when Dean is gone and when he returns. He has Castiel’s coat over his arm, but what’s most surprising is that he’s wearing a jacket of his own and he’s pulling on a hat. Dean hands over Castiel’s coat without a word and immediately pulls a pair of gloves from his pocket.

“Why are you –?” He leaves the question open ended.

“I’m going to make sure you get home safely.” Dean shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t exactly look comfortable with his decision.

Castiel shakes his head as he gets dressed himself. “I can’t have you do that. You’d have to walk all the way home afterwards.” That’s an hour long walk in the cold after midnight. Regardless of how Castiel is feeling right now, it wouldn’t be right for him to let Dean do that alone. At the very least _he_ can protect himself. Castiel knows some basic defensive spells and he has his superior strength. If he can’t distract with magic, he can overpower basically anyone and run.

“Well, I’m going to need it.” He sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m not quite in the mood for partying anymore and I need the walk to clear my head.”

“It’s quite a long walk, Dean.”

“I know, but I’m not comfortable with you walking home alone after midnight.” Dean pauses and ducks his head, shifting from foot to foot. “Unless – I mean – I get it if you don’t want me to come along. I seriously just want to make sure you get home safe and we’ve both had too much to drink for me to drive my baby.”

Clearly Dean isn’t seeing the hypocrisy of his choice. Even with all the beer Castiel has had, he can see it. Dean doesn’t want _him_ to walk home alone, but that’s exactly what he’ll be doing when he turns around at the café and heads home. He also doesn’t seem to realize that perhaps Castiel isn’t comfortable with him walking home alone after midnight either. Or that maybe he would like to be alone right now to get his thoughts in order.

He takes his time getting his own hat and mitts on to give himself a chance to think. If he refuses to let Dean walk with him, it could start a fight that Castiel really doesn’t want to have with him right now. Disagreements and arguments are part of any relationship whether it’s friendship, colleagues, romantic, or otherwise. He might not have a lot of hands on experience with most kinds of relationships but Castiel has read quite a bit about what makes for any healthy relationship.

But, then again, if he lets Dean walk with him then perhaps they’ll be able to talk about what happened. If they talk, maybe that might actually _help_ things? He would like that. Castiel would love for Dean to say something that magically fixes every terrifying feeling curling tight around his heart. Otherwise he’s going to be spending the rest of the night peeling every feeling away to analyze and try to figure out _why_ he reacted like that.

Castiel is on the fence about this, but it can’t hurt to at least _try_. “If I tell you to turn around and leave me alone, will you listen?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean nods enthusiastically and Castiel is fairly certain that he actually smiles, though he can’t confirm without looking at him directly and he can’t bring himself to do that just yet.

He starts walking without another word and Dean falls into step next to him, his head down and his shoulders curled. Is he feeling as bad about this as Castiel does? Part of him hopes that he does. This has changed the evening and it will most likely change the course of their friendship if he lets it. And if he doesn’t, Castiel can’t help but wonder what that will mean for the both of them. His mind is so preoccupied with thinking about the future that ten minutes into their walk flies by.

It’s at that point that Dean clears his throat. “Hey, Cas? Can we – um – You wanna talk?”

That would be the best thing to do, but now that the option is presented to him, Castiel balks at it. He can’t do this. Not right now, at least. “I think I’d like to finish this walk alone.” Dean comes to a sharp stop and it takes Castiel a few more steps before he stops too. He turns halfway to glance back, keeping it brief. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

With that brief look, Castiel’s heart moves right into this throat. He wasn’t expecting Dean to look so – so - so _heartbroken_. This is most definitely hurting him as much as it’s terrifying Castiel. But Dean puts on a brave smile and nods. “Okay. I get it, Cas, I do. Could you text me when you get home? I just want to know you got there safely.”

“Of course.” Castiel pats his pocket to confirm his phone is there. At least he understands the need to make sure that his friend is safe.

Dean opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but nothing comes out. Eventually, he just closes it and shakes his head. After a brief wave, Dean turns away and starts back towards his house. Castiel watches him walk away for a few moments before he returns to his own walk home. Without Dean at his side, his brain suddenly feels blank and his limbs heavy. He’s not sure how it happens, but he manages to make it all the way back to the café without thinking about what happened again. That’s not a good thing and it utterly terrifies him.

Gabriel is behind the counter when he walks into the café and he’s practically vibrating from all the espresso that he’s likely had to remain away this long. He spins on the stool and raises both arms in joy. “Cassie! How did the party go?”

It went well, and then it didn’t, and Castiel doesn’t want to talk about any of that. “I’m going to bed.”

The smile falls from Gabriel’s lips and he jumps off the stool. “Why? What happened?”

If he can’t talk about this with Dean, then he most certainly can’t talk about this with his brother. “I can’t work tonight.” Castiel shakes his head and pushes past him to head into the kitchen. “Work the café yourself or close it. I’m going to bed.”

Before Gabriel can corner him, Castiel takes the stairs two at a time. He kicks off his shoes just inside the door and heads straight for his bedroom. Nike tries to rub against his ankles and meows loudly when she’s denied it. Castiel doesn’t bother with his coat, his hat, or his mittens before he simply drops face down on his bed. It presses his glasses painfully into his nose, but he doesn’t care. They were fogged up anyways and it’s not like he could see all that much. He made it this far purely on spatial awareness.

Nike jumps up on the bed and starts nosing at his hand. She clearly wants attention, but he can’t bring himself to really move right now. Everything just seemed to be going so well tonight. Of course he was nervous about being at Dean’s house for the first time, and about meeting so many new people without the safety of the café around him. But none of that seemed like much of a problem when he had Dean there next to him and beer weighing heavy in his belly. Castiel felt _relaxed_ when he was having fun with Dean, and it felt really good right up until that moment their New Year’s hug was ruined.

Everything crashed and burned right then and there, and that’s exactly where Castiel’s just wants his brain to stop. He doesn’t want to think of the look in Dean’s eyes afterwards, or when he turned around to head back home. He doesn’t want to think about why, somewhere deep under the fear and surprise that there’s a little bit of _happiness_ and that’s certainly not something he wants to actually analyze. He shouldn’t be happy for any reason right now.

The floor creaks by his door and Castiel knows immediately that he isn’t alone. “Dear God, Cassie. Why are you being so dramatic? Did you kill a man?”

Castiel groans into his pillow, but doesn’t answer. He should have known that Gabriel would have followed him. The edge of the bed dips and a hand touches his shoulder. “Hey, answer me, kiddo. What happened at the party?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He turns his head just enough to speak, but that’s it. Of course he knows that he _should_ talk about what happened and get some help figuring out what’s going on in his head and in his chest, but he’s more than a little scared of what answers he might get.

Gabriel sighs loudly and he pokes Castiel in the small of his back. “You’re going to talk with me because you know I’m not going to leave you alone until you do. I’ve closed the café and now you’re stuck with me, so spit it out.”

He has a point, but Castiel can only get himself to groan unhappily again. It makes Nike meow and she noses at the side of his head. Gabriel hums and pokes him again. “Let me guess. This is about Dean?”

No, they aren’t going to do this. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Knowing how long it take you to get from his house here, you would’ve had to leave almost right after the ball dropped.” Gabriel muses out loud, and Castiel hates him just a little bit for it. He is _very_ good at figuring things out when he wants to. It’s part of his charm. “I’d bet that Dean went and tried to kiss you at midnight, didn’t he?”

And there it is, of course. In another life, Gabriel must have been a great detective. He might even be Sherlock Holmes in another universe. Whatever the case may be, Castiel grumbles into his pillow without actually answering. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. If Gabriel can wait maybe until tomorrow night, then perhaps he’ll be ready for it. Right now he just wants to get himself under control.

“Oh my _God_.” Gabriel gasps and he slaps Castiel on his thigh. “He _did_ try to kiss you!”

This is clearly not working the way he wanted it to. Castiel kicks out to one side, hoping to hit him and make him go away. “Leave me alone.”

“Did you punch him or kiss him back?” The edge of the bed stops dipping as Gabriel bounces up and out of the way. “What happened? Do I need to give you the talk about the birds and the bees?”

Now this is starting to get ridiculous. Castiel rolls onto his side and turns a glare on his brother, since those seem to be one of the few things that actually make him listen. “First off, I’m _twenty-six years old_. I don’t need the birds and the bees talk. Secondly, we didn’t kiss and all I did was _leave_.”

Gabriel deflates into a slouch and sticks out his tongue in a pout. “That’s the boring-est answer you could give. Way to be a downer, Cassie.”

How _dare_ he! Castiel isn’t the one who ruined the night. _Dean_ is the one who changed the parameters of their friendship with what he did. “He’s my _friend_ , Gabriel. Friends aren’t supposed to kiss each other.” As far as he knows.

Understanding fills his face and Gabriel snorts a laugh. He sits back down next to Castiel and pats him on the leg. “Well, sometimes friends end up liking each other more than they should. And, for the record, I _told_ you that he liked you.”

A growl rumbles in the back of Castiel’s throat as he sits up properly. “Don’t you dare try and make this an _I told you so_ moment.”

That earns him a rueful smile and a slap on the back. “Why is this freaking you out so much, huh? It’s not that big a deal that your friend has a crush on you.”

“You just don’t understand.” Castiel sighs and shoves him away. “Dean leaned in to kiss me during a _hug_.” He shouldn’t need any more explanation than that.

Gabriel watches him for a moment and frowns. “Again, so what?”

“He’s not – He can’t – We’re _friends_.” That should be enough of a reason, shouldn’t it? Or is Castiel missing something? It’s certainly the only thing that he’s stuck on. He can’t stop thinking that maybe Dean was never his friend in the first place. He can’t stop being afraid that the first friend he’s ever had was only _pretending_ because he was attracted to him.

“You’ve got a really weak argument here, Cassie.” With a sigh, Gabriel slings an arm around his shoulders and cuffs his chin with his other hand. “Buck up, kiddo. If you’re not into Dean and you just want to stay friends, then tell him. He’ll move on and hook up with someone less cute than you.”

That makes Castiel’s stomach turn and he feels even worse than he did before. Even more than that is the fact that he doesn’t know _why_ he hates that almost as much as he does everything else. What he does know is that Gabriel is putting ideas into his head that he doesn’t want to think about quite yet, or ever. If he could just put it off forever, he would be very happy with that.

He’s done with this conversation. “You can go away now.”

“Fine. If you don’t want me to help you figure this out, then I’ll go.” Gabriel stands up and dusts his hands off. He starts towards the door and Castiel reaches after him without thinking about it. Somehow he knows, because Gabriel stops at the door and turns around. “Do you still want me to go away?”

Augh, it’s just the worst when he’s like this. But he’s got a point, and Castiel sighs. “No.”

The victorious grin almost makes Castiel change his mind. Thankfully, Gabriel doesn’t rub it in too much. In fact, he doesn’t say a word as he sits back down on the bed. Immediately Nike crawls into his lap. She must not like that Castiel is still wearing his coat and it’s making his lap all bumping and weird. He understands and contemplates taking it off, but he doesn’t feel much like moving. They need to _talk_ now and it appears that Gabriel is waiting for _him_ to make the first move.

It takes a few minutes, but Castiel eventually breaks. He sighs loudly and rubs his mitten-covered hands over his face. “I don’t want Dean to have a crush on me.”

“Why not?” Gabriel pets Nike absently and gives him a sideways glance. “He’s got, got a good job, has a house and a car, and he’s totally into you. Oh, and you guys get along _disgustingly_ well. Can’t get much better that that. Frankly, I don’t see a downside to this.” After a moment’s pause, he turns to look at Castiel properly. “Unless… Maybe you’re just not into him?”

See? _Now_ he gets it, and Castiel opens his mouth to confirm; and that’s all he does. He sits there with his mouth open and not even a squeak coming out. Slowly, he shuts his mouth and stares hard at the wall opposite him. Why can’t he say it? Why can’t he say that he’s _not_ into Dean? He’s not. He’s _not_. Right? Is that why he was happy? _Is_ he attracted to Dean? Castiel has found people physically attractive before, but he’s never been _interested_ in anyone. Not like what Gabriel is talking about, at least.

That seems to get Gabriel’s attention, actually. He moves Nike from his lap and stands up again. “Little bro, I think you’ve got some shit to think about.”

“No, I don’t.” Castiel shakes his head and pulls his mittens off a little more forcefully than needed. “There’s nothing for me to think about.”

“Well, now we know what you’re going to be doing all night.” He pats him on the shoulder and leans down until they’re eye to eye. “You’re going to have to figure out if you’re into Dean or not.” When Castiel shakes his head, mostly to keep from having to meet his stare, Gabriel yanks the toque off his head; jarring the glasses right off his nose. “Like it or not, Cassie, but this is something you’re not going to be able to run from. You’re going to have to talk to Dean about what happened eventually. It’s that or you’re both going to end up avoiding each other for the rest of your lives and you’re going to lose your third best friend.”

Castiel fixes his glasses and squints up at Gabriel with a frown. “Third?”

“I’m first, obviously.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest with a smile. “Nike’s the second, and Dean’s the third. First come first serve, y’know.”

Okay, that’s enough. “You can _definitely_ go away now.”

He’s given Castiel plenty enough to think about for the rest of the night. Up until this moment, he hadn’t considered the possibility that he might like Dean in return. And that’s something he’s not entirely sure of. Dean might not even like him like that. This whole _thing_ might just be a misunderstanding. As far as he knows, Dean could have been telling the truth and he really did just get swept up in the moment. This could all be the fault of the beer and the mood and – and now he’s just grasping at straws because what are the chances that Gabriel is actually wrong about this?

Gabriel pats him on the cheek. “Good luck, Cassie. If you need me again, don’t wake me. I’ve gotta be up in five hours and it’s going to be hard enough to get to sleep right now.”

Castiel hums in acknowledgement, but he’s very focused on the wall while he thinks. He hardly notices when Gabriel leaves for his own bedroom, and he certainly doesn’t know how long he sits there going over everything that he knows. If he analyzes previous interactions with Dean with the idea that Dean is attracted to him, he starts noticing things he hadn’t before. Not once has he ever seen Dean trip over himself or blush like he does when he’s been talking to someone else.

There are so many things he didn’t notice before that he’s picking up on now and it’s almost enough to make him ashamed for missing it the first time. And yet all it does is reinforce his fear that Dean only befriended him because he’s attracted to him. Was there _anything_ about their friendship that was real? That’s what scares him the most, and _that_ is what he’s most afraid of losing.

“Come on, Nike. I don’t want to sit here thinking about nothing but this for the rest of the night.” Castiel picks her up, and she squirms slightly against his coat.

He finds the mouse that Dean made for her and takes it with him to the kitchen. She chases it across the floor while he hangs up his coat and puts his hat and mitts away. There’s nothing else to do right now except go back to work, and that’s exactly what Castiel plans to do. He puts his work shoes on and takes Nike and her mouse downstairs with him to re-open the café. Even if Gabriel thought it perfectly alright to leave it close, he doesn’t share that sentiment. Gabriel went to all the effort of making extra New Year’s themed baking on the chance that customers would come by after their parties end. It would be a shame for all of that to go to waste.

It’s also Castiel’s hope that if he devotes himself to cleaning the café, then maybe he’ll be able to distract himself from his personal problems. Or, at least, those _were_ his hopes. He’s barely gotten through doing his usual shift start of counting the till and doing an inventory check when his phone beeps with a message. Unsurprisingly, it’s from Dean.

**_Hey, just checking if you got home safe?_ **

Castiel worries his bottom lip for a few moments before sending an answer. **_Yes._**

He continues staring at his phone after the message has been sent and it gets marked as read. There’s still more to say, and he hates that Gabriel is right. Castiel doesn’t want to lose Dean as a friend and they _will_ have to talk about things eventually. Unfortunately, the sooner that is, the better. Even if he does clean the café from top to bottom, he’s going to spend the rest of the night thinking about all of this whether he wants to or not.

His hands shake a little as he types and sends one more message. **_We need to talk about what happened. Can you come over Friday evening?_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these next few chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these next few chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥

_ _

_ _

**_Friday – January 1 st, 2016_ **

Dean sits on the steps of the porch regardless of the wet boards turning his ass cold. If it’s possible to have negative desire to return to the party, he’s got it. The only thing he wants to do right now is punch himself in the face because he’s a fucking _idiot_. How could he have gotten it so goddamn wrong? It just – it _felt_ like the right moment. He thought things were going the right way and he was reading all the right signals and dear _God_ was he wrong. Apparently he’s been barking up the wrong tree this whole damn time and he’s not sure what’s upsetting him the most about that right now. At this point, Dean is pretty sure that Cas is never going to want to see him again. He’ll be lucky if he’ll be allowed back into the Graveyard Shift _or_ the Trick or Treat after tonight.

When the front door opens again, Dean looks over his shoulder to make sure that it’s not Sam, Charlie, or Jo. He’s not ready for a pity party or answering any questions about why Cas booked it out of here like a bat out of hell. Thank God it’s just a couple of smokers. They nod at him and head to the closed end of the porch to light up. Dean manages a smile before he gets up and heads inside, because fuck if he’s going to let himself get caught up in small talk. Besides, he’s not all that fond of the smell of cigarettes to start with.

Even though the ball has dropped, the party still looks like it’s going strong. Dean stops at the bottom of the stairs to watch people dance and have a good time. Part of him wants to find himself the nearest hardest liquor and drink away the rest of the night, but he’d much rather just _not_. Yeah, he’s pretty much done with the party right now. He doesn’t even hesitate with kicking off his shoes and heading upstairs. Looks like he’s going to be _that_ anti-social guy who spends the party hiding in his room. In all fairness, he’s lost all excitement for this.

His bed looks mighty comforting and Dean drops onto it face first. This is it. This is where he’s going to spend the rest of his life because he can never go out in public again. That’s the penance he must pay for being fucking _terrible_ at just about everything. The only thing he doesn’t suck at is being a fireman and that’s all he’s going to do for the rest of his life. Looks like he’s only leaving this room to do his job. He’s going to eat, sleep, live, and _die_ in this room.

Is he being dramatic? Possibly. Hard not to be when he feels like he just fucked up harder than he ever fucked up anything before. And that’s hard, given that he once accidentally wrote a book report in high school for the wrong damn book. He got a good mark on it, but he still had to write one for the right book. That was a good mark too, but still. It showed that he wasn’t really paying attention in class. Honestly, AP English was something he _slept_ through half the time.

Dean sighs and rolls onto his side so he can stare at the clock. He mentally calculates what time it should be when Cas gets home while walking from here. His party night has been reduced to watching the minutes tick by until he’s hopefully going to get a text saying that Cas got home safe. Of course, that’s only if he texts in the first place. It’s entirely possible that he might never get another text from him again, and that just _sucks_. He really liked being friends with Cas.

Honestly, Dean would have preferred to take that walk with Cas. After the bullshit he accidentally almost tried to pull, he was going to go for broke and just get all the dirt out on the walk by confessing. He wanted to get everything out about how he thought Cas was hot to start with and he started flirting at first to get closer to him, but then he really did want to be friends. Dean _adores_ being friends with Cas and talking with him is some of the best things about his day. He looks forward to every chance they spend time together.

Well, he _looked_ forward to it. Now he’s pretty sure that’s never going to happen again. He’s never gone after a guy before, but Dean’s pretty sure that it’s not a good sign when the guy you just tried to kiss and you’ve been crushing on for months is actually _ran away_. There’s no coming back from that, is there? God, he is so royally _screwed_ here and all because he couldn’t keep his lips to his own damn self. He can’t even blame the beer he had and all the other kisses that were going around at the time. It was his own damn fault for fucking this up.

Worse yet, Dean can’t even begin to imagine how Cas is feeling right now. No, that’s a lie. He _can_ imagine what he’s feeling and none of it is good. There have been way too many assholes on the internet freaking out because one of their male friends just came out as gay and they feel so _betrayed_ by it. Granted, those are usually the idiots who automatically assume that their gay friend is into them. A good ninety nine percent of the time that’s not true, but Dean’s pretty sure that he hasn’t actually told Cas that he’s into guys yet.

Fuck. That makes this whole night probably an even bigger shock for Cas than Dean originally thought it was. God _dammit_. He’s such a fucking _idiot_.

Dean turns his face back into the pillow and groans loud enough that he doesn’t hear the first few knocks on the door. Apparently hearing or answering it doesn’t matter, because Sam opens the door anyways. When Dean rolls over to see who dares to disturb him, Sam already has his head poked through the door. “You okay?”

It was only a matter of time before someone was going to come after him. Of all the choices, Sam is probably the last person Dean wanted to see. He hasn’t tried to hide anything from him because Sam is probably the most understanding family member he’s got, but he also hasn’t exactly said anything about how he’s also attracted to men yet either. This isn’t exactly something he wants to explain right now. Sam can just hold all his questions for the next five hundred years. Maybe then Dean will be ready to talk about what happened tonight.

He shrugs and turns back to the clock to check the time again. What should be a clear sign that he doesn’t want to talk seems to go right over Sam’s head because he shuffles right into the room and shuts the door _behind_ him. Dean does his best to ignore him while figuring out where Cas should be in his walk. Sam ignores him right back and drags the desk chair over to the side of the bed. He turns it backwards and sits with his arms crossed over the top of the back of it.

All of ten seconds pass before Sam reaches over and pokes Dean in the side. “So, you like Cas, huh?”

Son of a _bitch_. Dean groans and slowly slides his eyes from the clock to his brother. This isn’t something he wants to talk about, but Sam is giving him that soft look he reserves specifically for when he’s going to talk about uncomfortable things and he doesn’t want Dean to run for the hills. He stares him down until Sam is the one who has to break the silence.

“I was looking for you for my New Year’s hug and I saw you and Cas by the door.” Sam drops his chin to rest on his arms and lifts his eyebrows. When Dean doesn’t say anything, he sighs and continues. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

That’s what he says, but that’s definitely not what he means. There’s no getting past this and Dean sighs loudly. Might as well just get this fucking over with. “I’m bi.”

One of Sam’s eyebrows quirks. “Yeah, I figured that was the case about when I learned that bisexuals were a thing.” He grins and the other eyebrow goes up too. “You liked Harrison Ford a little _too_ much, in case you were wondering.”

“Not my fault he played some of the most badass characters of my childhood.” Dean rolls over onto his back and drapes an arm over his eyes. “Thanks for not outing me to the folks.”

“Yeah, if I figured it out then they probably already have too.” His grin gets even stupider. “First it was Harrison Ford and now it’s my boss, huh?”

This is stupid and Dean covers his face with both hands. “I liked him _before_ you got hired there, thank you very much.” Or, at least, he _thinks_ he did. He’s still a little spotty on exactly when Sam was hired as to when he started liking Cas.

“Is it that beer you let me have, or do I really hear a ‘ _but_ ’ in there?”

And it’s a _very_ big ‘but’ that Dean makes Dean’s stomach crawl up into his throat. He barely manages to get words out. “But he doesn’t like _me_.”

“Oh.” Dean’s not even looking at him and he can tell that Sam’s perky little puppy tail has drooped. “Is that why he left so quickly? He didn’t even say goodbye to anyone.”

Yup, this is a pretty shitty situation. It’s all Dean can do to shrug and mentally add another ten minutes to the clock before he decides to text Cas and make sure that he got home safely. He should be getting there within the next five minutes or so, probably.

Sam reaches over and pats Dean on the thigh. “I’m so sorry your year is starting like this.”

“It’s fine.” He sighs and rolls back on his side to watch the clock. “I figured it would happen at some point. Cas was always nice but he was never _in_ to me.”

After a few moments of silence, Sam scoots the chair closer and pats him on the leg again. “You gonna come back down to the party?”

Dean probably _should_ go back, but he really doesn’t want to right now. “Nah, I’d be too tempted to get stupid drunk and forget about how badly I fucked things up.”

“You want me to bring anything up?” He sighs and pats his hip again. “Chips? Pop?”

Good thing he didn’t list any booze because Dean would probably cave all over that. “Would it be too cliché to want the tub of ice cream from the freezer?” A pint of Rocky Road sounds fucking amazing right now and he’s suddenly got a hell of a craving.

Sam snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, it _would_ be pretty cliché. How about instead I just give you a hug? That sounds loads better for you.”

Actually, that’s a hell of a letdown compared to Rocky Road, but it _is_ better for Dean’s thighs. If he ever wants to keep fitting into those cut off jean shorts he likes to wear when he’s washing the Impala in the privacy of his own garage, then he probably shouldn’t consume a pint of ice cream. With a heavy sigh, he sits up as Sam moves to sit next to him on the bed. They share an awkward side hug that Dean is never going to admit is actually pretty goddamn comforting for him.

“Better?”

That includes not admitting that he _does_ feel slightly better. Instead, Dean shrugs and glances at the clock again. “A hug’s a hug, Sammy. How did your countdown go?”

It’s like he pulled the stopper from a bottle of pure delight after it’d been shaken a few times. Sam practically starts vibrating in place; literally bouncing where he sits. “I got a kiss from _Jess_.”

Holy shit, what? Dean whips around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. He knew Sam was kinda fancying someone at the café, but he never got a straight enough answer no matter how many times he asked. Jess was probably one of Dean’s _last_ guesses. “Dude, she’s older than _me_.”

Sam stops bouncing and his whole face scrunches up in a pout. “Uh, no? She’s definitely not. Jess is only twenty years old and she’s got the same birthday as you.”

Wait, wait, _wait_. “What?” He’s absolutely positive that Jess is older than him. She just seems so ridiculously put together that _twenty years old_ was the last thing he figured she would be.

“She graduated high school, like, two years ago.” Sam stands up and bounces on his heels. “Jess went straight into culinary school and got her Associate’s Degree in those two years. She graduated last spring and Gabriel hired her right out of school.”

“Holy shit.” Well, that’s going to change Dean’s opinion of her a lot. Meaning that it goes _right_ through the roof. “Now, the important question, was it a _cheek_ kiss or did you get full lip-on-lip action?”

He visibly wilts and sighs. “It was a cheek kiss, but I’m working my way up.”

Dean snorts and stands up so he can slaps Sam on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger forward a step. “You _dog_.”

Sam rubs his shoulder and gives him a haughty look. “I’m a _gentleman_ , thank you.”

“When did my little bro grow up, huh?” He sighs and reaches over to ruffle Sam’s hair.

“You said the same thing when I started dating Sarah.” Sam shoves his hand away and steps out of reach. “And don’t you _dare_ tell me to stop growing up like you did back then. Grownups get to drink beer, kiss girls, and not go to school. I like being a grownup way more.”

While he does have a point, there are a few key things that he’s missing. “But we have bills, jobs, and don’t you remember the song? Kissing leads to love, leads to marriage, leads to babies in baby carriages. Are you ready for a kid, Sam? Do we need to have the birds and the bees talk?”

After one horrified look, they both break down laughing. Sam shoves him and they both end up sitting on the edge of the bed again. “I promise that I won’t tell mom and dad about, y’know, all of this.” He flaps his hand. “That’s your big secret to give them.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean puts his arm around his shoulders and leans into his side. “But could you not tell _anyone_? I’m not exactly hiding anything, but I haven’t said anything to most people yet unless they figure it out themselves.”

“Got it. My lips are sealed.” He mimes zipping his lips and grins at him.

Dean grins back before patting Sam on the shoulder again. “If you want, you can go see if Jess wants to dance with you. I’m gonna just stay up here for a while.”

Or possibly for the whole night. Talking with Sam has really lightened his mood, but he still feels like shit for everything that happened with Cas. Besides, he really needs to text him. He’s pretty worried for two different reasons that he hasn’t heard from him yet. Either Cas isn’t going to talk to him ever again, or something horrible happened and he’s dying in a ditch somewhere. Neither of those are acceptable and Dean is _definitely_ going to be the one reaching out first.

Sam stands up again and gives Dean two thumbs up. “Don’t stay up here too long or you’re going to miss everything fun.” He flashes him one more grin before leaving.

As soon as the door is shut, Dean wastes zero time in getting his phone out and sending Cas a text. **_Did you get home safe?_**

It’s actually surprising when he gets an answer back. **_Yes._**

Oh, thank God. Dean sighs and drops back on the bed again. He crosses his arms over his face again. Cas _answered_. Maybe. There’s always the possibility that the text came from someone who stole his phone after mugging him and wants to throw people off. Yeah, no. He’s not going to think about that. Dean is going to take the positive road and choose to believe that Cas is safe, home, and doesn’t _hate_ him for being a stupid fucking idiot.

His phone buzzes again and Dean holds it really tightly so he doesn’t drop it on his face when he checks it. There’s another message from Cas and he sits up sharply. **_We need to talk about what happened. Can you come over Friday evening?_**

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Cas wants to _talk_ things over. As far as Dean knows, that’s usually a bad thing. Great. Now he can’t stop thinking that this is going to be the talk where Cas tells him he doesn’t want to be friends anymore because all he wanted was to be friends. Cas is going to tear him a new one because Dean _betrayed_ him on that aspect, or something like that. God, he’s probably going to say something like that he never wants to him again and he’s going to get banned from the café. All this _after_ they just put his name on the goddamn menu board and everything. How long before that gets changed back?

Dean groans and hides his face in his hands. This is not good. This is _not_ good and this is the absolute worst start to the year _ever_. Not even that one New Year’s Eve party back in high school where Charlie’s girlfriend broke up with her _at_ the party while in the middle of making out with someone else was as bad as this. It might’ve been for Charlie, but not for Dean. He never should have thrown the stupid party tonight or pushed Cas’s limits to try and get him to open up more.

It takes him a few minutes of taking deep breaths before he can calm down enough to actually type out an answer. **_What time?_**

 ** _Would food be comforting?_** Cas responds again, just as quick as the first time. **_I could make us dinner if you come around dinner time?_**

The offer of _making_ dinner is a bit of a silver lining. It’s better than Dean could ask for, at least. On the other hand, he’s not really feeling _food_ right now. **_Gotta be honest, Cas, but I probably won’t have much of an appetite if how I’m feeling right now is any indication…_**

Cas sends him a sad looking emoji with a tiny pout and big eyes. **_You’re upset?_**

Kudos to Cas for actually noticing. They haven’t known each other that long, but even Dean can tell that he’s not always quick on the uptake when it comes to noticing shit about other people. It’s even enough to make Dean crack a bit of a smile while he types out his answer. **_Yeah, pretty much. I did a stupid thing that I regret and I’m sorry._**

He gets another sad looking emoji. **_I would like to apologize too. I was very… surprised._**

No shit, Sherlock. A blind man would’ve been able to see that Cas was _surprised_ , but there was definitely more going on there than that. Dean shakes his head with a snort. **_Don’t pull punches with me, Cas._**

**_Then I will save any and all punches for when you come over, if you would like to, that is. I need the day to think about things._ **

Well, fuck. That takes what little wind is left in Dean’s sails pretty quick. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. **_How about after dinner? Like after 7pm or something?_**

 ** _Alright. Just come on up when you get here. I’ll let the staff know._** Cas ends his message with a smiley face that buoys Dean’s hope a little bit. He never thought he’d trust an _emoji_ to make him feel better.

He starts his response with a thumbs up emoji. **_Night, Cas. Happy New Year._**

**_Happy New Year._ **

Dean stares at the last message for a little bit before he puts his phone in the charging dock. Cas said he needs to _think_ about things. That could potentially mean good things, right? It’s small, but the possibility exists. Maybe he’s just going to sort through his feelings and decide that he’s not really as freaked out as he seemed? In the best case scenario, it’s entirely possible that he might decide that he wants to try kissing properly. That’s on the very far end of best case scenario, but it’s a lot better than what the worse possibility is.

If worse comes to worst, Cas will simply just not want to be friends with him anymore because he’s not comfortable with Dean crushing on him. That means he’ll never be able to show his face at the café again, which’ll suck because they make damn good coffee and Gabe is a better baker than Dean is willing to admit. Of course not getting to hang out with Cas ever again is a _way_ bigger problem. He’s just going to have to keep his fingers crossed for something _positive_ to happen tomorrow. At this point, he’ll be happy to walk away with Cas saying that he just wants to be friends and _only_ friends – which is something Dean would be totally fine with.

Friendship is totally what he was after in the first place anyways. Sure, he wanted things to progress past that, but even if it didn’t then at least he got a cool new friend out of it. That’s what he’s going to have to explain to Cas later. He thought Cas was hot at first and he totally wanted to get some, but that evolved into a full blown giddy-at-the-thought-of-him crush the more Dean got to know him. Now he wants _everything_ like all the cuddling in front of the TV, holding hands, and snuggling together while they sleep. It’s been a _long_ time since he’s had any of that. While this whole situation might not be ideal, at least Dean has a glimmer of hope.

It takes him a good ten minutes before he finally rolls his way out of bed. He visits the bathroom first to splash some water on his face to freshen up. As long as he doesn’t look like he wants to go throw himself into traffic then he should be able to fake his way through the rest of the party. Dean will give it another shot even if he’s not going to be as into the party as he was before, but he’s the host and he should be down there having fun with his other friends.

Hopefully it will be enough to actually pick him up.

*

Not to be dramatic or anything, but Dean is totally shaking in his boots. So much so that he actually parked behind the café and walked _around_ instead of knocking on the back door until someone came to let him in. He’s done it before and he could have done it again, but he needed that extra little bit of time to try and calm himself down. Well, that and he wants to delay this talk as much as he possibly can. Seriously, he was so nervous that he actually brought a beer with him and chugged it in the car after he parked. This talk isn’t going to happen without _some_ liquid courage.

Dean can do feelings. He can do them just fine. He just can’t do feeling _talks_ very well, and the last thing he wants to do is fuck things up even worse tonight. If he can walk out of here without a life ban on seeing each other, it’ll be considered a win. Dean really honestly likes Cas as a friend and at the very least he wants to keep that.

Anna waves him through as soon as he walks into the café. She gives him a double thumbs up and flutters her wings. “I’ve been instructed not to strike up a conversation with you. Cas is waiting for you.”

“Goddammit.” He hunches his shoulders and shuffles past her. That doesn’t sound like a good thing.

When he knocks on the door, Cas answers with Nike in his arms. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods and allows Dean to scratch Nike under the chin before letting him into the apartment. Gabriel is nowhere in sight, but he’s got the feeling that he isn’t too far away. There’s a high chance that some eavesdropping is going to be going on and that’s going to make this whole thing even harder for Dean than it already is.

“This way.” Cas tilts his head and starts towards the hallway. “We’re going to talk in my room. That will make it harder for Gabriel to listen in on us. I’m pretty sure He’s been looking forward to this talk more than either of us.”

As if he wasn’t nervous enough, now Dean’s heart rate doubles and his knees wobble a bit. He’s never been to Cas’s bedroom before. Hell, he’s never even seen it through the doorway. Of all the times he’s been here before, the door has always been shut. _Always_. This is now actually just a little more terrifying than before. He’s going to see where Cas _sleeps_. A bedroom is personal and private; it’s someone’s inner most sanctum that isn’t literally inside of them.

Not for the first time, Dean thinks Cas can read minds. He stops at the edge of the kitchen and turns back to look at him. “Is it appropriate for me to take you to my bedroom? Or is that not a good thing considering what happened last night?”

Dean hadn’t considered that and he has to stop and think about that for a moment. “Nah, it’s fine, Cas. You only show me what you’re comfortable showing me. It’s not like I’m going to start rooting through your underwear drawer or anything. We can talk in the kitchen, the living room, or even downstairs. Hell, we could go talk out in my car if you want.”

Cas’s eyes go wide for a second before he fixes Dean with a squint. “You would go through my underwear drawer?”

Not until at least the third time they slept together, but that’s not something he needs to tell Cas. “Of course not! It’s a _joke_.”

“Oh, okay.” He shrugs and turns back to start towards his bedroom again. “I have no issue showing you my room. I just don’t want it to be awkward between us.”

A bit too late for that, but Dean’s going to try and keep an upbeat and positive view on this. “It’s only awkward if we let it be.”

“Oh my God, will you idiots just get this over with?” Gabriel appears at the end of the hallway with what looks to be a bowl of ice cream in his hands. “If you take much longer, I’m going to go _gray_.”

“Behave.” Cas points a finger at him as he reaches his bedroom door. “If you’re not on your best behaviour, then I’m going to banish you to downstairs. This is the first time I’ve had a friend in my room, so you had better be nice about it.”

“As if I’m ever anything else.”

Cas rolls his eyes as he turns to Dean and gestures for him to follow. They duck into the bedroom together. His heart skips a beat as Cas actually shuts the door behind him, giving Dean the chance to give the room a quick once over. It’s pretty bare at first glance; no pictures, no paintings, and pretty much nothing on the wall except for a calendar hanging above the only bookcase by the door.

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. Hold the fucking phone. That calendar is hanging right above every single one of the origami pieces that he’s folded and left for Cas. Lined up in two neat little rows right there on the top of the bookcase are Dean’s crane, cat, fish, penguin, koi fish, mouse, bear, koala, whale, dragonfly, dinosaur, and seahorse. Cas actually _kept_ them and Dean is having trouble wrapping his brain around that because _holy crap_.

He’s so wrapped up in the damn origami that he almost misses when Cas clears his throat. Dean looks up only to immediately look back down because all of his origami is _right there_. This is mind boggling and he’s going to be dead weight until he can figure out why these aren’t in a trash can somewhere.

“Please don’t pay those any mind.” Cas sighs and puts Nike down on the bed. “They’re – um – gifts from an admirer. Which I now realize might not be the right thing to say to you considering what we’re going to talk about right now.”

Well that answers whether or not Cas knew that these were from him. He doesn’t know and he _still_ kept them. Yup, utterly fucking mind-boggling. “You _kept_ them?”

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” He picks up the crane and boops it on the nose. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to make them for me. It felt wrong to just throw them out.”

Dean reaches out to touch the tail of the dragonfly. “I can’t believe you kept them.”

“Why are you so surprised? You only just learned –” Cas gasps and practically drops the crane. He points it at Dean, nearly shoving it against his face. “It was _you_!”

Looks like the penny just dropped. Dean tries really hard not to blush, but he does duck his head while he shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if you knew or not. I kinda figured you did, given the whole bit where I was totally caught on camera every single time.”

Cas opens and closes his mouth a few times before waving his hand to flap the crane about a few times. “Why would you – Why didn’t you – _Why_?”

Those are all very good questions, of course, and he doesn’t have much of a clue how to answer them. Dean scratches the back of his neck and shrugs again, shuffling over to sit on the bed next to Nike. He pets her while getting his thoughts in order. “Well, uh, I guess I did it for the same reason for what almost happened last night. It was kinda my way to flirt with you, more or less.”

“O-oh.” His cheeks go pink and Cas drops the crane on the bookcase. Almost right away he picks it up again to put it back in place. “So you – you really _do_ f-flirt with me?”

Dean swallows loudly and looks up from the cat. “Honest answer?” This is fucking terrifying but he’s already dug his own grave so he might as well lie in it. “Yeah, pretty much a lot.”

“Why?” That seems to be Cas’s favourite word right now.

“Because I like you.” He shrugs and looks back down at Nike as she rubs against the side of his thigh.

Cas is quiet for a few beats before he clears his throat. “You _like_ me?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean chews on his bottom lip when glancing up at him. “You want me to list the reasons or something?” He could, but he’d probably die if he had to.

That blush goes even darker and Cas shakes his head. He stares at the floor long enough that Dean starts getting uncomfortable. The feeling only gets worse when he eventually moves over to sit down next to Nike. On the bright side, they have the cat between them – right up until she crawls right into Cas’s lap, curls up into a ball, and starts purring louder than a lawnmower. Well, she _is_ his cat. Of course she’d betray Dean like this.

The silence in the room carries on until Dean decides that it’s time to break it. “So – um – what else do you want to talk about?” They’ve pretty much got the most important thing out of the way anyways, so whatever else they should talk about is up to Cas.

“You tried to kiss me.” Cas looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Why?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to.” Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I kinda got carried away with the whole drinks and everyone else kissing, y’know?”

Cas buries his fingers in Nike’s fur and scratches until her tail starts flipping every which way. “Okay, but does that mean you – do you _want_ to kiss me?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” He fidgets with the shiny spot left on his finger where the blister from the hot glue gone is still kinda there. “Not all the time, though. Just when you’re being especially cute. Otherwise, I just really like having you as a friend and hanging out with you, Cas. I have a lot of fun when we’re together and everything.”

“Does that happen often?” Cas pulls his hands out of reach as Nike takes a swipe at them. “The –um – the being _cute_ thing?”

Dean shrugs and rubs his hands on his jeans. It’s so hard to just _hold still_ when they’re talking about this. Especially considering that Cas is being _really_ cute right now. He pulls off awkwardly adorable so well. “Kinda, yeah. A lot, actually.”

Cas takes a deep breath and curls his hands in the bedspread. “Since when have you – when did you start to _like_ me?”

Good question. He’s pretty good at asking all the right questions. Dean shrugs and shakes his head. “Well, I thought you were pretty hot since the very beginning. The part where I started to actually really _like_ you came after I got to know you. You’re pretty awesome, in case you didn’t know. It’s hard not to fall for that.”

The blush is back in full force and Cas ducks his head enough that his glasses actually slide down his nose. Instead of pushing them back up, he actually takes them off, folds them, and puts them aside. In any other case, Dean would immediately assume that he’s probably going to be getting some. It does make his heart jump in his chest a little bit, but of course he knows that’s not what’s going to happen. Yeah, sure, maybe things have been going pretty well so far, but that’s because Cas hasn’t outright shot him down yet. It’s just a matter of time before that happens.

Really, though, he should just get this over with. With that in mind, Dean clears his throat and turns towards Cas a little bit. “Is – is that all you wanted to talk about? I mean – you _did_ say that you needed the day to think. What did you think about?”

Cas looks up at him slowly and Dean knows immediately what his answer is going to be. He looks pretty fucking sad. “I’m sorry, Dean. I can’t return your feelings.”

And there it is, exactly as he expected it. Dean’s chest still squeezes like a vice and he takes a deep breath; putting on a brave face. “That’s okay, Cas. I’m not asking you to, but – if you’re still cool with it – I really do want to be _just_ friends with you.”

The sad drops right off Cas’s face and he honest to God actually _smiles_. “I would like that.” Then it falls again, but he doesn’t look nearly as sad as he did before. “There are some things I need to explain first.”

“You don’t have to, Cas.” Mostly because Dean is kinda happy with how things are right here. Anything else might change that and _that_ is pretty terrifying.

“Yes, I do.” Cas reaches out and touches Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t want there to be anything left unsaid.” He drops his hand again pretty quick to start petting Nike again. “I do like you, Dean, but I’ve never _liked_ someone before. I don’t know if the feelings I have for you are simply friendship or if they’re something more.”

Hold up, what? Dean tries not to let his hope sky rocket, but Cas literally just said that he _likes_ him and he has _feelings_ for him. It’s not really his fault that he gets all wide-eyed at that. “Uh –” He licks his lips and swallows thickly. “H-how do you wanna go about figuring that out?”

“I’m not sure if I want to.” Cas’s expression goes all sad again and he looks down. “If I _do_ like you, then we could never have a relationship. I wouldn’t feel comfortable pursuing a relationship without you knowing certain things about me and my past.”

Dean’s pretty sure he knows where this is going and he deflates just a little. “Things like what you are?”

Cas nods slowly and Dean deflates even more. Goddammit. They were _so close_. Well, on the bright side, this isn’t a straight ‘no’. He’s disappointed as all hell, of course, but they’re so damn close that it wouldn’t take much. If Cas does figure out that he’s interested in Dean like that, all it would take for them to hook up is that he gives up his biggest secret. As much as Dean would like to kiss the ever loving bejesus out of Cas on occasion, that kind of secret isn’t one that he’s going to push for.

Though, that doesn’t mean that he can’t do some research of his own, right? How many creatures are there that can’t go out in the sunlight? There can’t be that many, so it should be easy enough to look it up and cross-checking it with everything that he knows about Cas. Yeah, no. He can’t do something like that. If he did that, he would _actually_ be betraying Cas’s trust in him, and he absolutely won’t do that. Now he’s just going to have to figure out a different way to swing this.

The best way Dean knows how to do that is with comedy. Time to turn things around by being a goof. “Can I still flirt with you? I mean, like, I dunno. I might do it on accident or something since I’ve been doing it for so long. I just want to make sure that it’s okay with you?”

A frown creases Cas’s forehead and he tilt his head to the side. “I guess? Honestly, I never notice that you were flirting with me before, and I’ve never flirted with anyone so the chances that I’ll flirt back are fairly slim.”

That’s been pretty obvious from the start. “I’m not expecting you to, Cas.” He snorts and shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “But if you want to practice on me, I’d be pretty okay with that.”

“I couldn’t.” Cas shakes his head and lifts Nike into his arms. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I dunno. I think it would be fun.” Dean grins at him and wiggles his eyebrows in the process. “It would be less weird for you to practice flirt with me than with anyone else, and this way I won’t get jealous.”

Cas looks at him sharply, stopping mid-motion as he’s standing back up. “You would get _jealous_?” He’s all wide-eyed surprise and he holds Nike to his chest like she’s some kind of safety barrier between them. Considering her claws and teeth, she’d be a pretty effective one in the long run.

It is _so_ hard not to laugh, but Dean does his best. He shrugs and tries to look as serious as possible. “Maybe. You’ll never know because I’m cool like a cucumber.”

Yeah, right. More like he’s a fucking idiot and there’s no way he’s going to get out of this apartment alive. It’s just a matter of time before he sticks _both_ feet in his mouth and Cas throws him out the living room window. Probably.

_** ** _

This is really just getting to be too much. It’s possible that Dean is just joking, but he honestly doesn’t know. The only thing Castiel can bring himself to do right now is shake his head and force a smile. His brain is overwhelmed, but it’s still trying to chug along and process the fact that Dean really does _like_ him, proving once and for all that New Year’s Eve was _not_ an accident due to the atmosphere. He’s also struggling with the fact that he’s actually _relieved_ to learn that the origami have been gifts from Dean this whole time.

Nike squirms in his arms and he lets her go at the first prick of her claws in his arms. She jumps to the floor and gives Castiel an unhappy glare before she goes to sniff at the kibble in her food dish. He watches her as he tries not to wring his hands, using her as a distraction. Castiel just really isn’t sure what to do about this situation. Yes, he absolutely does want to continue being friends with him regardless of what romantic feelings they may or may not have for one another. But what else is appropriate for him to say now that he’s already declined Dean’s affections?

After some consideration, Castiel turns back to him. “Don’t wait for me.”

Dean opens his mouth only to close it and frown. His shoulders drop slightly. “What?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll ever return your feelings.” He looks back down at his hands where they’re twisted in his lap. “I don’t want you to wait for me. If there’s someone else you’re interested in, please go for them.” Hopefully he doesn’t come across as egotistical with this. He just really doesn’t want to do anything that would hurt Dean in the short or the long term.

The next smile Dean gives is strained and a sharp pain pings behind Castiel’s ribs. He _hates_ that he’s the reason for what that smile isn’t as bright as it always has been before. Hopefully turning down Dean’s affections won’t lose him that smile completely. It’s just such a nice smile and it always makes Castiel feel so good when _he_ is the reason behind it.

Dean lifts his hand and hesitates for a moment before he drops it on Castiel’s shoulder. It’s a brief few pats before he pulls it away again. “This isn’t the first time that I’ve been snubbed on a crush, Cas. I’m a big boy. I can deal with it.”

Something about being _snubbed_ doesn’t sit right with him. Is that what he’s doing? Is he snubbing Dean? That doesn’t sound like a nice thing and it makes Castiel’s stomach twist uncomfortably. There’s a lump rising in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dean shakes his head and his smile eases slightly. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you.” He pauses and his eyes go wide for a moment. “I mean – well, I _don’t_ mean that if you do end up liking me like that or something. I mean as a friend. I really did – and still do – want to be your friend more than that, okay?”

It is honestly _so_ relieving to know that Dean still wants to be his friend. Castiel didn’t get any sleep during the day, kept awake by how worried he was that he was going to lose his one friend. He had been rather tempted to open the curtains and take _the sleep_ just to ensure that he would actually get some rest. But that’s just so much to set up and take down, and he needed his room to be pristine for this conversation with Dean. Besides, he had the sleep just the other day and he doesn’t quite need it just yet. He will tomorrow, though.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel gives him a small smile, and there’s no strain in this one. “I appreciate that, and please consider me the same.”

That smile gets a little brighter and it causes Castiel’s own to grow too. They end up looking away when another silence falls between them. His eyes end up on the origami again and Castiel realizes suddenly that tomorrow is Saturday. If they hadn’t talked about this today, would he have received another one? What would it have been? There is, of course, an even bigger question regarding those too.

He gestures at the bookcase and the lines of origami. “Are you going to stop making me those?”

Dean looks at them and a wry smile tilts his lips. “Do you want me to?”

Well, that certainly is something to think about. Castiel’s little collection has really grown over the months. Now that he knows that they’re from Dean, his feelings towards them have certainly changed. These are gifts from his friend – his _best_ friend – and he really does like them quite a bit. “I wouldn’t be opposed if you want to keep making them.”

“Do you want me to give them straight to you, or should I keep up the illusion of anonymity and keep leaving them at the counter?” He turns to Castiel with an eyebrow raised. It’s hard to tell if he’s teasing or if he’s asking an honest question.

Castiel shrugs but he doesn’t look away from the origami, trying to imagine what else Dean could possibly make. “Do whatever is most convenient for you.”

“Got’cha.” With a hum and a nod, Dean puts his hand in his pocket to draw something from it. That’s when Castiel turns to look at him, only to be presented with a slightly flattened origami snail. “It’s a day early, but here. I figured if you didn’t already know, then I’d probably be outed today for this. So, here you go. I Hope you like it.”

It’s absolutely adorable and Castiel picks it up carefully. He tugs at the edges to make it a little less flat as he gets up to add it to the rest of his lineup of origami. There are so many designs here that he’s a little surprised that Dean hasn’t run out of things to make yet. Now he’s actually _excited_ for next Saturday to come; eager to see what will be made next.

He turns back to Dean with a smile. “Thank you. I’m really impressed with the strides that you’ve been making with your origami.”

Dean ducks his head with a blush and rubs at the back of his neck. “Aw, it’s nothing. It takes a week of practice to make them look as good as they are.”

That’s still impressive and, if he’s being honest, makes his chest feel fuzzy. The amount of work Dean has put into the origami for _him_ is dizzying. It’s not a bad feeling either. If pressed, Castiel would say that he actually likes the feeling. He _likes_ knowing that Dean was courting him with origami, despite how it was done anonymously. And he did it all without knowing whether or not his feelings would be returned. That’s something to be admired, if anything.

Castiel turns back to touch the head of the crane. “You’ll have to teach me some of these folds. I haven’t really branched out from cranes and dragons for a while.”

“Maybe on our next game night we could do some folding?” He pauses and starts twisting the hem of his jacket between his fingers again. “If you still want to hang out, that is.”

“Of course!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Castiel winces. Perhaps he was just a little _too_ enthusiastic. He doesn’t want their friendship to be any different from what it’s been so far. The only problem he foresees at this point is that he has _no_ idea how knowing that Dean has feelings for him might affect future interactions.

He takes a deep breath and gives Dean what he hopes comes across as a confident smile instead of the weak thing it feels like. “I don’t want anything to change between us.”

Dean’s smiles softens slightly and he nods. “I can do that.”

“Thank you. And I –” A wave of awkwardness washes through him and he hesitates. Castiel rubs a hand over the back of his neck and clears his throat. “I hope I didn’t hurt you with this.”

“Of course not, Cas.” He stands up and puts his hands back in his pockets, a crooked smile fixed to his lips again. “Since we’re doing that whole hundred percent honesty thing right now, I gotta say that I’ve been kinda expecting this from the start. I had my hopes, but you never really flirted back, so I basically knew my chances coming up here tonight.”

Castiel isn’t sure how he feels about referring to this moment as _one hundred percent honesty_. Shouldn’t they be completely honest with each other all the time? Within reason, of course. There are certainly things that he can’t say no matter the situation, but _still_. He’ll have to bring that up at some point, if he ever gets any kind of hint that Dean is lying to him. Thus far, Castiel is fairly certain that he hasn’t. He’s been a little secretive here or there, but Dean has _seemed_ to be nothing but honest to him.

With a sigh, he shakes his head and crosses the room to add more kibble to Nike’s bowl. “Even if I wanted to return your flirtations, Dean, I don’t really know how. I’ve never flirted with anyone.”

Dean laughs shortly with a snort and shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. What about with your previous girlfriends?” He pauses and raises one eyebrow. “Or boyfriends?”

Ah, yes. Now that they’ve broken into the topic of relationships, it was only a matter of time before he started to fish for information. To be fair, Castiel was expecting this ages ago. It _is_ what most people tend to talk about, from what he’s observed from the patrons of the café. Men and women alike have spent hours sitting at one of the tables drinking coffee and chatting away about this date and that hook up. It’s as if they all forget that employees have ears. Considering half the employees are Creatures of some sort, those ears tend to be _very_ good a hearing.

Regardless, Castiel turns a flat look on Dean until he flushes red and ducks his head until his shoulders are at his ears. There, now he knows that it’s not appropriate to ask those kinds of questions – regardless of whether or not Castiel cares about answering it. To be fair, he really doesn’t care. He’s not ashamed that he has no experience to speak of.

Castiel rolls his eyes and puts the kibble away as Nike shoves her face into the bowl to eat noisily. “I’ve never dated anyone and I’m a virgin. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

If he thought Dean was blushing before, Castiel was very wrong. He goes _bright_ red and his mouth opens just slightly. That can’t mean anything good and Castiel points at him. “If you’re thinking perverted things, then I want you to stop _right_ now.”

As much as he would like for things to remain the same, he knows that it won’t. This is probably going to be something that he’s going to have to worry about now. Castiel will never be able to look at Dean the same after today’s revelations. Hopefully he won’t be spending every moment they’re together wondering what Dean is thinking with how he looks at him. This has changed their friendship, regardless of what they want.

Dean takes a quick step backwards and holds both his hands up. “I – what? No! I wasn’t! I’m just – That wasn’t – It was – I was just _surprised_.”

While that might be true, Castiel is still _very_ suspicious. He fixes Dean with a narrow eyed stare, trying to gauge the truth behind those words. Immediately it makes him shift on his feet and look away. Dean shoves his hands into his pockets again and ducks his head as he starts towards the door. “I’m gonna go before I say anything that makes you not want to be my friend anymore.”

Oh no. Castiel’s heart jolts painfully in his chest and he starts after Dean before he realizes it. The reaction is instantaneous. He just doesn’t want Dean to leave yet. “You don’t have to – I mean, I don’t start work for a few hours.”

That brings Dean to a stop in the middle of reaching for the door handle. He turns to Castiel slowly, eyes still wide. “You – uh – do you wanna go downstairs and get some coffee or something?”

“I try not to go downstairs before my shift.” Castiel grabs his glasses from the bed to put them back on and gestures for Dean to let him at the door first. “Gabriel should be going to bed soon. We could go watch a movie in the living room, if that sounds good to you?”

“Yeah, that – that sounds good to me.” Dean smiles, warm and easy.

Castiel can’t help but smile back at it, though that drops right into a frown the moment he opens the door. Gabriel is just in the process of _casually_ ducking into his bedroom at that exact moment. His look of surprise when he turns around is so utterly _fake_ that it makes Castiel cringe. His first desire is to reach out and punch his brother in the face because he just _knows_ what was happening out in the hallway.

“Oh, hey!” Gabriel leans against his doorframe and crosses his arms. “What a coincidence! Are you guys done talking? Still buddies?”

“You would know.” He rolls his eyes and turns for the living room. “You were eavesdropping.”

With a loud and incredibly fake gasp, Gabriel follows after him. “I was _not_!” He tugs at the back of Castiel’s shirt. “But, seriously, how did it go?”

He nearly walks right into Castiel when he turns around sharply, and Dean very nearly walks into Gabriel’s back. Dean glances between Castiel and Gabriel a few times before he eventually clears his throat. “We’re – uh – we’re still friends.”

Gabriel’s grin goes shark-ish and that’s a _terrible_ thing. “But you finally told him about the origami, right?” He rubs his hands together like he’s an evil villain. “Because I’ve been sitting on that secret for _months_ and it’s been killing me.”

Dean groans and moves to drop onto the couch. “Lemme guess; you looked at the security tapes, huh?”

“Of course I did! I don’t like to torture myself unlike _some_ people.” He throws a pointed look at Castiel and rolls his eyes. “So, of _course_ I had to look it up the very first night and share it with literally everyone who works here.”

“Except for me.” Castiel sighs and pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Now go to bed. You know the rules, Gabriel. You’re not allowed to interfere when I have my friend over.”

His bottom lip sticks out as he turns away. “You suck all the fun out of everything.”

“Actually, he’s pretty fun.” Dean pipes up from the couch, slouching back with a smile.

Gabriel turns back sharply and points a finger at him. “You stay out of this!”

A growl is rumbling in Castiel’s throat before he even realizes it as he turns a dark glare on his brother. He doesn’t want Gabriel to embarrass him with teasing, nosiness, or his general everything. From the corner of his eye, he sees Dean sit forward suddenly and his mouth is open. It takes Castiel a moment to realize that this is the first time Dean has likely heard him growl. The only way to deal with this is if he acts like it’s no big deal at all.

With one last meaningful look at Gabriel, Castiel moves to sit next to Dean. He picks up the remote and starts to flip through Netflix. They need to find something to watch that will the three hours or so that they have before his shift starts. There’s a nearly endless number of options, but he can’t pick something too short. It needs to be a long movie that will fill up as much of the time as possible. Otherwise he might be forced to have further conversation with Dean again and Castiel is pretty much talked out right now.

Unfortunately, while the movie might be an easy answer, other things are not as easy – and it’s all because of Gabriel. Apparently he _isn’t_ as ready for bed as he previously stated. He makes this clear by wedging himself between Castiel and the end of the couch. This poses a problem as their couch is rather small. It leans more towards being a loveseat than anything, because that is all that they were really able to fit into the room. Which means that Castiel is now _very_ squished in the middle as he’s being forced to press up against Dean’s side. Undoubtedly that was Gabriel’s intention all along.

Rather than give him the satisfaction of showing that he’s irritated by this, Castiel remains resolute. He refuses to move as he picks what he thinks will be a good movie and settles back without a word. Dean keeps throwing little side glances at him, but he otherwise remains quiet as the movie starts. Gabriel is doing the same, but for entirely different reasons, most likely.

Hopefully the movie will put his mind at ease. It feels like someone took a pencil and scribbled a mess in the back of his mind. All his feelings and thoughts on what happened tonight have jumbled together; tripping over one another in their attempt to be what he focuses on first. If Castiel is lucky, this Friday night will be a quiet one and he’ll be able to spend his shift thinking things over. There’s one thing that he wants to think over with more detail and he puts that aside for now so he can enjoy the movie.

That thought in particular is that Castiel is very happy that he and Dean are still friends. He should be satisfied with that, but there’s a little worm of _disappointment_ chewing its way through that happiness. It’s that feeling that Castiel can’t understand. What does he have to be _disappointed_ about with how their conversation went? He’s looking forward to trying to figure that out.

**_Thursday – January 7 th, 2016_ **

With a heavy sigh, Castiel collapses on his bed. He fans his wings out to hang over the edges of the mattress as he props his chin up on his arms, crossing them under his head. It’s just his exhaustion from needing _the sleep_ , but it feels like it took him forever to get all the tarps hung up in his room. He had to tape down every edge to make it easier to clean up come nightfall, and he’s just about ready to fall asleep now that he’s done. Which is too bad, because according to the weather app on his phone, the sun isn’t supposed to rise for another fifteen minutes.

The tarp crinkles and shifts underneath him as he gets comfortable, ready to wait out the sun. Castiel keeps himself entertained by scrolling through the messages on his phone. There are only two people who text him regularly, and he has no interest in Gabriel’s messages as they’re most business or shopping related. That leaves Dean’s message log to go through, and Castiel is a little on the fence about that. It’s been almost week since they had their conversation and things have been a little – well, things have been _strained_ between them. Things have changed, regardless of what they agreed upon.

It’s definitely not Castiel’s imagination. He can see it clearly on his phone that the daily messages from Dean have decreased since their conversation. On Monday, Dean stated that he was going to have a busy week with work, his family, and some event he’s doing this weekend with Charlie. When asked, he wouldn’t give any further information about it. Castiel can’t decide if that’s because his plans for the coming weekend are secret or if he simply doesn’t want to tell him. Either way, he doesn’t want to push for more about it. Things are already awkward enough between them without him overstepping his boundaries and asking about things Dean doesn’t want to talk about. 

His thumb hovers over the keyboard and Castiel chews his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to lose Dean as a friend. Even though it’s barely past seven o’clock, would it be weird of him to text him right now? Castiel wants to make every effort necessary to bandage over what happened on New Year’s Eve. It’s not like he expects to get an answer right away, anyways. He could send just one little question and then hopefully Dean will have answered by the time he wakes up this evening.

Castiel pushes up onto his elbows and fidgets with his crystal necklace until he builds up enough courage to send a not-so-quick message. **_How free will you be this weekend? I was thinking maybe we could find a bookstore and see if we can find you a copy of the next book I’m going to read._**

Since it’s Dean’s day off, he should technically be sleeping right now. That’s why it’s rather surprising when he answers within a few moments. **_Wish I could buddy, but I’ve got that thing with Charlie. It’s an all weekend kinda thing. Friday afternoon to Sunday evening._**

Oh. That’s a little disappointing. Though, that does raise one question. **_What about work?_**

 ** _We both booked it off._** Dean breaks up his message with a grinning emoji. **_I don’t use vacation time often except for this stuff._**

 ** _What stuff?_** Curiosity gets the better of him and Castiel hits send before he realizes that he’s prying.

The next emoji Dean uses in his message has shifty eyes and it just makes Castiel want to know all the more. **_I can’t tell you…_**

He groans and clenches his teeth. This is harder than he thought it would be. **_I can respect secrets._** Out of everyone, Castiel understands the importance of a secret.

 ** _Well…_** Dean uses the same emoji again. **_It’s not really a secret._**

Now he’s just being cruel. **_Then what is it?_** Castiel isn’t accustomed to being _curious_ about things. The only person he deals with on the regular is Gabriel and he’s usually absolutely terrible with secrets. It’s honestly a miracle that he kept quiet on the origami thing like he did.

A few minutes go by where Dean doesn’t answer. Before Castiel can start thinking that perhaps he’s fallen asleep, he sends an answer. **_Yeah, never mind. It’s definitely a secret._** He adds another laughing emoji, making this one of the rare times that he’s used more emojis than Castiel has. **_If I don’t answer you quickly this weekend, it’s because of this thing. Doesn’t mean you should stop messaging me, ok?_**

 ** _I understand._** And he’s going to try _very_ hard not to be saddened by that. It’s going to be one of the first weekends in months where they won’t be hanging out on any day of the weekend. He won’t even see Dean tomorrow during his shift like he sometimes does.

Now it’s time to take his mind off that and Castiel starts with another question that has been bothering him. _**Why are you awake so early?**_

 ** _Preparations! Charlie and I are packing and doing inventory for everything that we need this weekend._** Dean follows that with at _least_ a half dozen smiley faces. He must _really_ be looking forward to his plans.

But what do they need to pack for? What is the inventory of? Castiel has so many questions and he consolidates them into one. **_You’re going out of town?_** Because that’s the only thing he can think of that would require packing and inventory.

**_Not really._ **

Damn. Well, he tried and that was the best he had to keep prying – even though he really shouldn’t be doing it. **_You’re not going to explain that, are you?_**

**_To be honest I’m kind enjoying being the mysterious one for a change!_ **

Dean ends the message with a laughing emoji that makes Castiel’s wings fluff up. He’s being _teased_ and he answers using the emoji with the tongue sticking out.   ** _Enjoy your mysteriousness and I hope you have a good weekend. I’m going to bed._**

**_Good “night”! I’ll talk to you later!_ **

It’s a normal goodbye from Dean, but now it’s missing the telltale heart kissing emoji that he always used to sign off with. Castiel never really thought anything of it before, but he kind of misses it now that it’s not there. He understands why Dean isn’t using it anymore, but _still_. Besides that, he also doesn’t like that there are secrets being kept from him. And, according to Dean, it’s not even an actual _secret_. Whatever is going on this weekend is something he just doesn’t want to tell Castiel and that hurts more than he cares to admit.

He grumbles to himself, wings twitching and flaring as he tucks his phone away. The sun should be coming up any minute now and then he won’t have to think about anything until nightfall. When he takes _the sleep_ , Castiel doesn’t even dream. It’s just about the only nice thing about having to take _the sleep_ all the time, especially when his brain is a buzz with too many things that he doesn’t really want to think about at the moment.

With some effort, he gets up and makes his way over to the window. Castiel pulls open the curtain and adjusts the angle of the blinds. The sun hasn’t come up yet, but the sky is starting to brighten over the edges of the buildings. His window looks out into the back alley, but the building next to them is roughly the same height so he has a decent view of the sky from here. At first he thought that Gabriel should have been the one to take this room because it’s the only bedroom that actually has a window, but he insisted that Castiel be the one to take it. Now that it’s winter time, he understands why. With a window, he can take _the sleep_ inside when the weather is too bad to do it outside.

At least one of them has some foresight. Castiel apparently has none to speak of, especially where Dean is concerned. Of all the courses their friendship could have taken, he had no contingency plan for the curveball that is Dean having _feelings_ for him. And he would like that sun to come up now so he can take _the sleep_ and not have to think about these kind of things for the rest of the day. It’s already tough enough to be staring down the weekends with no plans.

Maybe he could bundle up and go for a nice long walk? He always loved midnight winter walks with his parents and Gabriel when he was a kid. The countryside is so quiet and a nice heavy overcoat always hid their wings nicely. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a walk like that and the more he thinks about it, the better he likes the idea. He could go explore Hubbard Park in the dark silence of winter on Saturday evening.

Castiel backs away from the window and sits on the edge of the bed to mentally plan out his route through the park. He thinks about it right up until the first rays of the sun send him into _the sleep_.

**_Saturday – January 9 th, 2016_ **

Although he had actually _planned_ to go on this walk, Castiel is happy for it. He doesn’t quite feel like being locked up on his own with Gabriel all weekend. Ever since New Year’s Eve, he has been so impossibly _smug_ that it’s just this side of hard to live with. On the bright side, Gabriel didn’t insist on coming with him for the walk. He saw Castiel off with pockets full of protective spell bags after making sure that he was warm enough.

The thing about that is, however, Castiel is rather resilient to the cold and Montpelier winters have thus far not been very bad. In which case, the sweater under his coat and the scarf are most likely not needed. The hat and the gloves are acceptable, but everything else is perhaps a bit too much. Of course he couldn’t complain, otherwise Gabriel would have lectured him for ages and he never would have been able to leave.

His walk to Hubbard Park is entirely uneventful. Castiel keeps one hand on his phone at all times, just in case he needs to make an emergency call and he doesn’t want to fumble for it. Alternatively, if someone messages him or calls him, he wants to actually know when he gets it. He’s thinking more along the lines of Gabriel trying to reach him, but Castiel also doesn’t want to miss anything from Dean. Or, in the rare case, an emergency from one of the workers in the café. It’s unlikely, but he doesn’t want to be caught by surprise by anything when he gets back home.

Castiel is delighted to find upon reaching Hubbard Park that all the walking paths have been shovelled. He’s also a little surprised to find that the park doesn’t close for another few hours. Perhaps it remains open in the evening for night walkers like him? That’s most likely the reason, but regardless of what it might be, he’s happy for it because it gives him something to do. Now that it’s winter, the nights are longer and Castiel oftentimes finds himself at a loss for what to do with all those extra hours. Regardless, this is still his favourite season.

During his walk, Castiel decides to take the long way around the park so that he’ll come to the tower last. It’s his favourite part of the park and he’s looking forward to seeing what it looks like covered in snow and lit by the park lights. The observation tower may not be one of _the_ most interesting landmarks in Montpelier, but Castiel does enjoy climbing to the top to see basically the whole town from that one vantage point. It’s high enough up that if he closes his eyes and faces the wind, he can almost imagine that he’s flying. That’s something he’s never done before and he actually has _wings_.

To his great surprise, the fields surrounding the tower are actually _occupied_ when he finally gets there. There are _tents_ all along the tree line. In amongst the tents are what look like the fishing huts he’s seen out on the river; the kind that he thinks com with heaters inside. He stops on the path and squints across the field, picking out what appear to be _campfires_ set up between the tents; burning in those little metal grill boxes that the park provides for visitors to use to during their picnics.

While all of that is a little different, the strangest thing right now are the _people_. There are men and women gathered on either side of the field and they’re all standing in odd formations with foam-like swords, spears, shields, and what is undeniably _armor_. Castiel completely forgets about climbing the observation tower because this looks _far_ more interesting than literally anything else he could be doing right now. Especially because there are a few sets of people striding up and down in front of both sides and they’re shouting to the gathered people.

The wind and Castiel’s hat make it hard to hear, regardless of his excellent hearing, but he tries to listen alone anyways. He shuffles over until he finds the nearest bench and sinks down on it, absolutely riveted by what’s unfolding in front of him. Castiel holds his breath when those who are shouting at each other step aside. The two separate groups of people actually start to _scream_ before they charge at each other. It’s not so much of a scream as it is a roar, but it makes him jump in surprise.

Castiel leans forward, mouth open behind the folds of his scarf, as the two groups crash into each other and start smacking one another with their fake weapons. Those who get hit in what would be considered a _vital_ area collapse to the ground with dramatic death cries before someone drags them out of the way. It carries on for several minutes before the group to Castiel’s right retreats behind their boundaries to start launching snowballs at the other side. Their opponents scatter back to their side where they appear to regroup with their own snowballs.

Once the snow balls stop flying, the group to his left gathers in front of a short woman wearing a gilded cape. She takes off her helmet and Castiel immediately recognizes the red hair and flecked face. That’s _Charlie_. What in the world is she doing here? No, wait a moment. She’s supposed to be spending the weekend doing something with Dean. Does that mean Dean is here? Oh dear God, the tall knightly looking gentleman standing next to her couldn’t possibly be – Castiel actually _gasps_ when he takes of his helmet because he most definitely recognizes _him_.

Dean holds his fake sword high and gives a battle cry that is immediately reciprocated by everyone gathered around him. He looks around with a proud smile that Castiel can see from here, though it doesn’t last for long. It drops from his face most suddenly. In the same moment, he drops his sword and ducks to hide behind Charlie; which is a most impressive feat considering their height difference. Castiel can’t for the life of him figure out what could have caused that. Dean is acting like he’s trying to _hide_ from someone, but who? Oh. Did he recognize Castiel from all the way over there?

There are too many questions that need answers and he’s not going to get them from where he’s sitting. Hopefully he won’t be breaking any kind of rule by going over there, but he absolutely _needs_ to. Castiel gets up and crosses the field, sticking close to the tree line so he doesn’t get in anyways way. He reaches where Charlie and Dean are just in time to hear something _very_ interesting.

“Is he still watching?” Dean’s whisper is loud enough for everyone in the immediate vicinity to hear and Castiel is grateful for his scarf to hide his smile. “Can he still see me?”

Charlie is looking Castiel straight in the eyes when she answers him in a complete deadpan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _Cas_!” He hisses and grabs Charlie by the arms, making her shuffle over a few steps to the side. “I’m _positive_ that’s Cas sitting over on that bench.”

“You’re seeing things, Dean. There’s no one on that bench.” She raises an eyebrow at Castiel with a smile and shakes her head.

Dean peeks around her and goes white immediately. “Charlie!”

“For the record, I didn’t lie.” She steps out of the way with a twirl of her cape, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “There really _isn’t_ anyone sitting on the bench.”

“You _suck_.” He shoots her one of _the_ dirtiest looks Castiel has ever seen anyone give. Considering that he works with two Fae on the regular, that’s quite the feat.

Charlie sighs loudly and gestures at the people around them to disperse. She starts walking away backwards, following after them. “What he really means to say is _‘Hello, Cas. How’s it going?’_ Now go ahead and talk with him like the adult I know you are.”

This is so very interesting. Castiel tilts his head and looks carefully between Dean and Charlie. “Are you guys doing that thing where you – what is it called again?”

“Live Action Roleplaying!” She stops her retreat and quickly returns, excitement causing the flecks across her face to flicker slightly with flame. “It’s called _LARPing_ and that is most definitely what we’re doing. Right, Dean?”

His glare doesn’t lessen any and Castiel is certain that Dean is just moments away from picking up his fake sword to smack his friend. It’s a very confusing reaction. From his point of view, it looks like Dean is upset that Castiel is here and that’s just a little hurtful, especially since _Charlie_ seems so pleased to have him. She’s _delighted_ to talk about this, as opposed to Dean who is acting like he doesn’t want it to exist at all right now.

Castiel clears his throat slightly and pulls his scarf down so it’s not covering his face. “I have to admit, but this looks rather fun. How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, for _ages_.” Charlie tucks her helmet under her arm. She looks him over and her smile turns devious. He would recognize that smile anywhere, because Gabriel has it _all_ the time. “You know, Cas, you should stay and watch. If you get a little cold, all those huts have heaters to warm up.”

Dean hisses and slaps Charlie on the shoulder, immediately wincing as he connects with her armor. She ignores him completely; totally unfazed by what is beginning to look a little like a temper tantrum. Charlie remains steadfast with her expectant look at Castiel, her eyebrows raised and making him feel like there’s only one answer he can give.

“I’m rather resilient to the cold, but I would love to stay and watch for a bit.” Castiel looks pointedly at Dean. “If you’re alright with that, of course.”

It’s possible that the cold is the reason behind the reddening of Dean’s cheeks, but a blush could be the cause as well. He ducks his head and nods, though he again doesn’t make any attempt to speak directly to Castiel. That’s starting to get a little annoying and he’s going to have to do something about that before it becomes a normal thing and their friendship completely deteriorates from it.

Charlie thumps her breastplate. “The cold doesn’t bother me either. These guys are all sissies.”

With a groan, Dean reaches over and shoves her shoulder; a much safer option for his hands than slapping had been. “So _sorry_ that we’re not living flame like _you_ , your majesty.”

She sniffs at him and lifts his head. “I was just _born_ from the flame. I’m not a _living_ flame.”

“Bullshit. You hatched from an egg.” He snorts and turns his back to her. “ _Traitor_.”

Charlie gasps and lays a hand against her forehead. “How _dare_ you speak to your Queen like that! You should watch your tone, _handmaiden_. I’m the Queen of Moondoor and I can do whatever I want.”

Now that is certainly interesting. Castiel raises an eyebrow and struggles to keep the smile off his face when he looks to Dean again. “Handmaiden?”

“Oh my _God_ , Charlie.” It is most definitely a blush burning its way through Dean’s face, and undoubtedly into his ears and down his neck. Castiel has seen it often enough to know his blush patterns. “I’m going to _kill_ you.”

He clears his throat and takes a step closer to Dean in an effort to actually make eye contact with him. Maybe if Castiel is close enough, he won’t be able to avoid looking at him. “So, _this_ is what you’re doing all weekend, hmm?”

Dean groans loudly and pulls his helmet back on to hide his face. He takes a few moments before sighing. “Yeah, it is.”

Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. “I’m going to rally the troops before we break for the night. As your Queen, I’m ordering you to go sit with Cas and regale him with the tales of Moondoor.”

He foregoes the glare this time only to wilt with a sigh, turning it into a half-bow. “As your highness commands it.”

She throws her head back with a laugh and pulls her helmet back on. “Have fun you two! Don’t take too long, because I’m going to need Dean’s sword in a bit.” Charlie starts walking off before she’s even finished talking, ending with a simple wave over her shoulder.

They stand there and watch as she trudges through the snow to where the rest of their group has been waiting. After a few moments, Dean gestures for Castiel to follow him and they start towards one of the warming huts. The first one has a few people sitting in it and Dean informs them that Charlie is making announcements. He passes that one to go to the next hut, and then the next; going until he finds one that has no one in it.

When they sit down, facing each other with the heater in the center of the hut between them, Dean takes off his helmet again. “Is this seriously just a coincidence? Did you actually just _accidentally_ walk in on us here or did Sam rat me out?”

“I had no idea you were going to be here, Dean.” Castiel shakes his head as he pulls his scarf off. “All I did was go for a walk in the park because I haven’t done that for a while. If you recall, _you_ were the one being _mysterious_.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dean mutters, though mostly to himself. His hand muffles it quite well as he rubs it over his face a few times.

He tilts his head, looking Dean over and taking in the full extent of his chain mail and armor plates. It’s quite the elaborate get up and though it looks bulky, likely to protect against the cold, it doesn’t look _bad_. If anything, Dean looks rather _good_ in armor. He pulls it off nicely. Which means that his reactions right now don’t make much sense to Castiel.

“Why are you embarrassed?”

Dean puts both hands over his face and takes a few moments before he drops them to give Castiel and almost guilty look. “Because now you know I’m _nerdy_.”

It might be a bit impolite, but Castiel can’t help laughing right then. He starts with a snort but it quickly barrels into all out laughter. Once he composes himself, Castiel gives an apologetic smile. “I already knew you were nerdy, Dean. How often have we played board games together? How many times have I listened to you talk about all manner of tabletop and video games? I know _all_ about your extensive knowledge regarding movies, books, graphic novels – including manga and anime from a variety of genres. You’re nerdy, and I like it.”

If possible, Dean’s blush goes even darker and he stammers his rebuttal. “B-but you – you didn’t know that – you don’t know that I’m _this_ level of nerdy.” He fiddles with his helmet, turning it back and forth in his hands. “How can I ever be cool in your eyes again?”

“Well, I think this is pretty cool.” There is nothing but sincerity in that statement. “I don’t know anyone else, besides Charlie, who dresses up in armor to prove their valour. If anything, I’m _envious_ of you.”

When Dean lifts his head again, his eyes are wide and almost shining. “Really?”

Castiel nods and his smile softens. “Of course. You should never be ashamed of your hobbies – unless it’s against the law or morally questionable.”

Now Dean looks as excited as Charlie was earlier. He puts his helmet aside and sits forward. “Then shut up and let me gush about Moondoor. You don’t even _know_ the can of worms that you just opened up.”

Thought that’s technically a warning, Castiel doubts that he’s going to regret this. To a degree, he’s right. The only thing he’s regretting by the time Charlie walks into the hut is that they didn’t have enough time to get very far into the lore of Moondoor. It certainly sounds intriguing and he wants to know how Charlie, of all people, became the Queen. They haven’t quite reached that point when she interrupts.

“Hey, Dean.” She knocks on the door even after it’s open. “Everyone agreed that they want one more skirmish before we hang up our shields until tomorrow. You coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He starts to stand up, but freezes when Charlie asks her next question. “What about you, Cas?”

“Me?” Castiel looks to her in surprise, pausing in the process of retying his scarf.

She wiggles her eyebrows at him, her smile toothy and full of delight. “You wanna join in? We’ve got some spare gear that you could throw on. All you’ve gotta do is listen to my orders, run in there, and smack people with your sword until they fall down. The side with more people standing in the end is usually considered the winner.”

That actually doesn’t sound _too_ bad, but Castiel doesn’t want to do anything that would upset anyone else – _especially_ Dean. He never considered to do anything like live action roleplaying, but now that he’s seen it in action, he would like to do it. With all the armor and bundling up to keep warm, Castiel is certain that no one would be able to tell what he is while he’s here. His spell bags and crystal haven’t reacted to anyone here, so the chances of a Witch being around are slim to none.

There shouldn’t be anything for him to worry about here besides having fun, and part of him _really_ wants to give it a try. It would be just one more thing that he could talk about with Dean, and that thought gives him a thrill that he can’t quite explain.

“I suppose I could do that.” Castiel looks to Dean for approval and finds himself unable to read the expression on his face. “If that’s alright with you? I don’t want to join in the middle of everything and have everyone upset with me.”

“Don’t ask him, ask me.” Charlie flaps her hand at Dean and snaps her fingers at Castiel. “I’m the Queen, so what I say is what happens.” She reaches out to grab his arm and pulls Castiel after her. “Come with me! I’ll get you dressed. Dean, I want you to go get everyone into formation.”

“What?” Dean calls after them. “But – You guys!”

Charlie laughs and shouts back over her shoulder while she drags Castiel out of the hut. “Listen to your Queen, Dean! You have your order, now carry it out!”

“Is this really necessary?” Castiel allows her to drag him along, if only because a large part of him actually wants to participate. “It’s the last battle of the night. Should I really be taking part in it? I could just sit and watch like I did the previous one.”

“Oh absolutely!” She flashes a bright smile at him. “We would just _love_ to have you out there.”

That sends his heart rate spiraling up to the same levels where it had been on New Year’s Eve. There’s just something about knowing that he’s actually _wanted_ here that is so exciting. Castiel knows that Dean is on the fence about this, if not totally against it, but _Charlie_ wants him here. Is it possible that he might start a friendship with her too? Can he even handle more than one friend right now? He’s really got his hands full with Dean at the moment, but Charlie could be a viable candidate when he can expand to having more than one friend.

But all of that is something he can think about later. Right now, he’s going to dress up and have some fun doing something that Dean enjoys. Since he plays Castiel’s word games without much complaining, then Castiel can at least _try_ this LARPing thing, right? Honestly, it does sound fun and he has been meaning to start branching out into doing other things. Gabriel has been _strongly_ hinting at that for longer than Dean has been around.

When it comes down to it, Castiel is very divided on this. He wants to stay at home where he knows he’s safe, but he wants to go out and have experiences. He wants to go out and try new things every once in a while, even if they terrify him. The New Year’s Eve party was a _big_ step for him, and if he takes away all the confusion and upset of Dean’s attempted kiss, then it was actually a pretty good night. Castiel enjoyed himself then and he’s kind of having a little bit of fun right now.

This might not have been in his plans when he left on his walk, but it can’t hurt to _try_ it. He’s liked everything else that Dean has introduced him to, so why not this?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_** ** _

**_Saturday – January 9 th, 2016_ **

Castiel can honestly say that he has not actually seen many things having to do with LARPing before. He has never really searched out a video or investigated into the subculture. The extent of his knowledge is that it exists and he’s maybe seen an image or two just from his general activity on the internet. That said, he was pleasantly surprised to find it is rather enjoyable. To the point that he has a bounce in his step for his walk home.

Given his Creature disposition, there isn’t a whole lot that can make him sweat. Despite that, he did perspire just a little while running back and forth hitting people with a foam sword. It’s likely because of a combination of actual physical exertion, trying something new, and being surrounded by people that he doesn’t know. Regardless, he had fun and this is something he wouldn’t mind doing again in the future. Though Castiel has his doubts that they usually do things after dark like they did today.

It would be a simple thing to find out, especially with Dean walking beside him right now. That might be another reason for why he’s sweating. Aside from the late night coffee runs for the station, he hasn’t been alone with Dean since their conversation following the New Year’s Eve party. Since Castiel wants things to go back to normal between them, he didn’t say ‘no’ when Dean offered to walk home with him. He’s just – maybe – a little nervous that maybe things aren’t going to be the same ever again.

Dean left Charlie to pack up the Impala and she is apparently going to meet them at the café. With all their LARPing equipment, there wasn’t enough room for three people in the car. Otherwise, Dean insists that he would have given Castiel a ride home. Though, to be honest, he wouldn’t have accepted one. It may be cold out, but the weather is good and he enjoys walking. He does have to admit that it was rather nice of Dean to ask to offer to walk with him too. Castiel has really missed spending time with him, so this is nice regardless of the awkwardness.

It is rather amusing that Dean is still wearing his chainmail and armour, though he has a jacket pulled over it. Instead of his helmet, he’s now wearing earmuffs and a scarf, and he’s carrying his sword over his shoulder. They walk thus far has been in silence, but it’s not _too_ bad. Or, at least, not until the back of Dean’s hand brushes the back of his own. The moment it happens, Dean practically jumps off the sidewalk and into the snowbank with a muttered; “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Castiel isn’t sure why, but his cheeks burn as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Thankfully, his scarf is covering the majority of his face. “You don’t have to be like that.”

“I know.” Dean ducks his head and steps back into place next to him. “I just – I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable or think that I did that on purpose or something.”

That wasn’t even remotely what Castiel thought when it happened. He sighs and shakes his head. “Then act like you did before. I wasn’t uncomfortable with you then and I won’t be now.”

“But you didn’t know that I liked you then.” He brings up a hand to fidget with his scarf, pulling it up over his face more like he’s trying to hide. “Now you’re gonna know that when I hug you, I’m liking it for different reasons than you.”

Castiel had considered that, but he apparently came to a different conclusion than Dean did. A tight coil of disappointment tightens around his chest. He was really starting to like Dean’s hugs. They were nice and calming, and they satisfied a previously unknown need for physical contact that Castiel had never really acknowledged before. It’s hard to give up the comfort that the warmth of Dean’s hugs gave him.

“Does that mean you’re not going to hug me again?”

Dean looks to him in surprise, his eyes wide over the edge of his scarf. He shrugs, but he looks hopeful. “I – I don’t know. I mean, I could? If you still want me to, that is. If you’re okay with it, and all that.”

It brings a smile to Castiel’s lips and he’s glad his scarf hides it. “Well, it’s not like we’ve hugged since then.” He tilts his head and starts walking again, knowing Dean will fall into step. “We could try it again to see if knowing that you feel like you do changes the way it feels.”

There’s a long stretch of silence as they walk together before Dean shrugs, a laugh muffled behind his scarf. “Alright, then. It’s not like I’m going to turn down an offer for a hug from you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but a tickle of delight warms his insides. It makes his skin tingle and he’s suddenly very aware of the distance between the two of them. All the nerves on the side facing Dean are prickling with awareness. He wouldn’t even need to look to know he’s there, since his body will do it for him. It happened all throughout the LARP battle, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last. Though it’s odd that it’s happening now, despite how he’s always been aware of Dean before.

After a while, Castiel grows tired of the quiet that’s fallen between them again. The next conversation they strike up between them, the one that carries them the rest of the way to the café, is about how Dean and Charlie got into Moondoor in the first place. It’s not a long story, but it’s fun to listen to Dean rant about how Charlie drags him into almost everything that she does. He calls it the curse of being childhood best friends.

To their surprise, the Impala is actually parked in front of the café when they get there. Dean pats it on the trunk and sighs. “I guess we took longer to walk than I thought we would.”

“Hopefully she hasn’t been waiting long.” Castiel steps up to the window to peek inside. He hasn’t even had the chance to get a good look before she’s walking out through the front door.

“Oh good, you’re finally here!” Charlie flashes them both a grin. She has a box in her hands and a tray with two coffees balanced on top of it. “Do I even want to know what took you so long?”

Dean ignores her question and instead points at her with his sword. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.” Charlie brushes his sword aside and opens the passenger door to put her box and drinks on the seat. She turns to him and claps her hands. “Now hurry it up, Winchester. I’m getting texts that the team wants to do the Trail of Valor tonight.”

“Seriously?” He groans and passes her his sword, which she promptly tosses into the backseat through the door. “We just spent all day LARPing, and now they want to play WoW? They need to learn how to chill and just _relax_.”

She waves him off with a laugh. “That _is_ how they relax.”

Castiel clears his throat to get their attention. When two sets of eyes have turned to him, he pulls his scarf down out of the way. “If I might interrupt; what is WoW?”

“World of Warcraft.” Dean ducks his head again and looks away. He must be embarrassed again at revealing his nerdy hobbies. “It’s a – uh – an MMORPG. Y’know, one of those massively multiplayer online roleplaying games.”

Oh, now that makes sense. To him, it just sounded like they were saying ‘ _wow_ ’ and it was confusing. “I’ve never heard it referred to as an abbreviation, but I do know what World of Warcraft is.”

Charlie squints at him before her smile grows. “Do you play?”

Dean looks to Castiel sharply, excitement in his eyes. That fades the moment Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t think my laptop is good enough to play anything besides solitaire.” Though he thought that it would have been obvious that he didn’t play given that he didn’t know the abbreviation of the name for the game. Even new players must know that.

“Aw, damn.” Dean sighs, but his smile turns hopeful. “Well, if you ever get a better computer, you should totally play with us. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“I’ll consider it.” Except he’s not sure that there’s room in the budget for buying a gaming computer. And that would just be one more thing for him to abandon if he has to run. A laptop is lightweight and easy to grab. That’s why he and Gabriel bought their TV and furniture for cheap on Craigslist.

Charlie slaps Castiel on the shoulder with a loud laugh. “You should definitely play! You should totally join our guild. We’re kickass.”

“I don’t doubt that you are.” His smile at her is a little tight. To be quite honest, he has no real desire to play video games, but it’s nice to know that the invitation is there. Although it does warm him to his core to know that Dean now wants to share his interests with him. Perhaps on one of Castiel’s future visits to his house, they can sit at his computer and he can show him some of the game.

“You know, you weren’t half bad with that sword earlier.” Charlie leans her hip against the side of the car and crosses her arms as she looks Castiel over. “What do you think about joining our group? We’ve got the spare gear for you to borrow and you don’t need to buy an expensive computer for that. But everyone does chip in to buy the permit to use the park every once in awhile.”

It’s a very tempting offer, but Castiel is almost certain that he won’t be able to accept. He opens his mouth to decline, but Charlie continues talking. “I think you’d be pretty good at it and you’d look great in some proper arm. Don’t you think, Dean? He had a very Aragorn-esque thing going on back there.”

Even with the scarf obscuring half of his face, Dean’s blush is clearly evident. He shoves Charlie hard enough that she stumbles back into the open door of the Impala. “You can get in the car now.”

She laughs and flashes Castiel a bright grin. “He’s just being shy. You looked great out there, Cas, and I could totally give you a ranking position right off the bat as the queen.” Charlie tilts her head at Dean and waggles her eyebrows. “Being my handmaiden is a difficult task. Maybe you could share the title with him, huh?”

It looks like Dean is seconds away from trying to shove Charlie into the car by force. Castiel places a hand on his shoulder to stop him, just in case. “Thank you for the offer, but it’s not necessary. I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.” They both turn disappointed pouts to him and all he can do is smile. “I assume that you meet often times during the day. I could only ever attend after dark and that means a _very_ late start time during the summer.”

In unison, both Dean and Charlie’s shoulders slump and they share a disappointed look between them. “Damn, I forgot all about that.” She sighs and turns to Cas with a shrug. “Well, if we’re ever doing something after dark and you’re free, you’re welcome to join us.”

“I think I would like that.” His smile seems to ease both their pouts. “Thank you.”

“Alright! I can feel my phone buzzing up a storm in my pocket, so I think we should get this show on the road.” Charlie jerks her thumb at the car and give Dean a meaningful look. “Don’t take too long, okay? Those coffees are getting cold.”

He rolls his eyes at her and makes a shooing motion with one hand. “That’s your fault for leaving the door open. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

“See ya, Cas!” She gives him a short wave before dropping getting into the car.

Dean shuts the door behind her and turns to Castiel with a hopeful smile. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.” He shrugs and gestures ta the café. “I assume you’ll be getting coffee for work at some point in the next week.” Castiel pauses and his chest constricts tightly. “But, will you be free next weekend? Maybe instead of games, we could get started on watching some of those movies that you want me to see.”

“Absolutely!” His smile is half-hidden by his scarf and it’s still so big and bright. “If you want to do it at my place, we have a sweet surround sound setup and I have all the DVDs we need.”

“Th-that sounds nice.” Strangely enough, the thought of returning to Dean’s home again makes his heart flutter in a different way than he would have expected. He thought that he would be nervous or, God forbid, _afraid_ of going there after again after everything that happened on New Year’s Eve.

He takes a deep breath to try and force that feeling out of his chest. “I look forward to it. We should pick a time and day later. Charlie is waiting for you.”

As if to accentuate his point, she chooses then to honk the horn in one sharp beep. It makes them both jump and Dean glances at the car with a frown. “Yeah, I guess that’s my cue to go.”

Instead of acting upon it, Dean stays where he is. He shuffles his feet a few times and glances between Castiel and the car. If this had happened before New Year’s Eve, at this point in their goodbyes he would have most certainly already initiated a hug. They just talked about this not more than twenty minutes ago, so how come Dean isn’t hugging him already? Did he not believe Castiel when he said that he would like to at least test to see if hugs were still okay?

Or – It’s possible that Dean is waiting for him to make the first move. Given their conversation, Castiel is absolutely expecting a hug right now and he doesn’t want to let Dean leave without giving him one. Their friendship was great the way it was and he doesn’t want any of that to change, least of all the small forms of physical affections they shared. If anything, Castiel actually _misses_ the hugs when Dean stops in for coffee. He never gets them when he’s on shift.

With a quiet sigh, he steps forward and opens his arms to Dean since he doesn’t seem to be doing it. It’s just a small gesture, but Dean relaxes almost immediately. An easy smile peeks over his scarf and he steps into the hug. His arms circle around Castiel’s waist and pull him in, squeezing tightly. Castiel half expected that the hug would remind of him of what happened at the New Year’s Eve party, but all it gives him is a sense of satisfaction and safety. A warm, bubbly feeling fills his belly and he leans into the hug so much that he ends up resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder.

Doing so causes Dean to go stiff in his arms momentarily before he tightens the hug almost painfully. It only lasts a second before he steps back quickly and clears his throat. “So – uh – how was that?”

Honestly? It was the best one yet. “Good. I think I like hugs now.”

“You think?” He snorts a laugh and shakes his head.

Castiel shrugs and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Before you, the only person I’ve hugged in a very long time is Gabriel. And we don’t hug often.”

“What a shame.” Dean shakes his head but tilts an amused grin at him. “Hugs are pretty damn great.”

That has become more and more apparent to him with each one they share. “Yes, I’ve come to enjoy yours a great deal.”

The truth has an interesting effect on Dean. A dark blush fills his face and that bubbly feeling in Castiel’s stomach expands up into his chest. It manifests into a shiver that crawls through his bones, bringing with it an overwhelming urge to make Dean blush even more. He does it often, but it looks good on him. To be truthful, he _always_ looks good. That’s just the facts, though. Castiel noted on the first day they met each other that Dean is a very attractive man by all conventional descriptions, but that never really mattered before. What mattered – what _still_ matters – is that he enjoys spending time with him.

Dean makes Castiel laugh no matter the situation. The memories of the fun they have together makes him smile when he looks back on them. Whether they’re playing games, watching movies, texting, or simply talking together, Dean makes Castiel forget how lonely he can feel sometimes. He loves his brother and is forever grateful to have Gabriel at his side, but there are times when family just isn’t enough for him. Castiel never had a friend to fill that space. It’s been a long time since he’s had someone around who takes up so much of his thoughts that there are times when he _doesn’t_ worry about the circumstances of his life.

Realization strikes Castiel while he’s waving as Dean and Charlie drive away. It hits him hard enough that he staggers back a step. He likes his friend. No, this pleasant pain in his chest could be _more_ than that. Castiel stares long after the Impala has turned out of sight, analyzing the ache behind his ribs and the nagging wish that Dean would have stayed just a little longer. They could have gone inside and played a game while talking more about the lore of Moondoor. Or they could have curled up on the couch and watched a few movies together.

A lump rises in his throat and Castiel presses a hand to his chest, as if that will make this feeling go away. He refuses to admit to himself that he _likes_ Dean. If he does – if this feeling making his head swim is what he thinks it is – then what is he supposed to do? No, no. There are steps that he needs to do first. He can’t freak out about this or even figure out what he needs to do before he knows for certain that he has feelings for Dean. But how is he supposed to determine that?

This isn’t something he can think about out on the street. Analyzing his feelings needs to be done in private where he can have a proper mental breakdown, because _why_ in the world would his heart react _now_? Couldn’t it have let him know this a few weeks ago so he either could have acted on it with Dean? Actually he would have preferred that it _never_ have happened. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with anything at all and they could just be normal friends.

It might not be the most polite thing to do, but Castiel needs to be alone right now in the safety of his own home. He needs to sit and think and work through these things in his own way while figuring out what in the hell is going on with his emotions. Castiel turns on his heel and quite literally _runs_ inside, right past Tessa and Kevin as they go over shift change. He takes the stairs two at a time to get to the apartment as quickly as he can.

Gabriel is sitting at their small kitchen table when he bursts in. He’s facing the door and wearing a frown like a parent confronting a child past their curfew. “And where have _you_ been?”

“Not now.” Castiel only stops to kick off his snowy boots before he heads straight to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him. It’s the only way to keep Gabriel out for now.

His heart is a jackhammer against his ribs as he strips off his winter clothing and throws them on the bed. Nike meows unhappily as her napping spot is disturbed, but her complaints fall on deaf ears. Castiel presses a hand against his chest, trying to calm his heart down. It just won’t _stop_ and he can’t breathe. Even his skin suddenly feels too tight and his clothing is downright suffocating. This is – This is the _worst_. Is this what it’s like to actually _like_ someone?

Maybe this is just his body playing tricks on him. It’s possible that he’s coming down with something. No, that’s basically impossible. He has never, not in his life, ever been sick thanks to his hearty Creature immunities. There are so few illnesses in the world that can affect a Creature like him that he seriously doubts that it’s possible for him to be sick right now – even if that would be the easiest explanation. This is something else and he won’t just be able to explain it away as an outside force.

Whether he wants it to or not, Castiel’s mind starts to pick apart everything thought and feeling that he’s ever even remotely associated to Dean. It goes back as far as the first day they met and he squeezes his eyes closed, trying to beat back the memories. He doesn’t want this to happen. He doesn’t want to think or feel about Dean like this for so many reasons. And why is he so slow at realizing this? It’s been nearly two weeks since Dean’s confession. Castiel should have known sooner than this that he reciprocated his feelings at least _somewhat_.

It feels like his heart has taken up residence in his throat. Everything has gone so very wrong in just a matter of minutes. He’s never really been one for self-loathing, but he certainly feels like it now. How could his body – his own _heart_ – betray him like this?

With a head full of confusion, Castiel grabs his towel from off the back of his bedroom door. He doesn’t have much of a plan, but a hot shower might help ease the tension in his shoulders. The rhythmic pounding of the water on his shoulders has always helped calm his mind before, and he can only hope that it will help him again now.

“I’m going to take a shower.” It’s obvious what he plans to do, but he says it for Gabriel’s sake anyways as he passes through the kitchen to the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!” Gabriel stands up sharply and waves his phone in Castiel’s direction. “Tessa just texted me. You were hanging out with Dean and that red head firefighter? And why in the heck did you run through the café like that? You’re lucky there were no customers.”

Those are all very valid questions and concerns, but Castiel just doesn’t have the time for them right now. He has his own dilemma to work through and he can talk with Gabriel afterwards. Nike meows unhappily when he shuts himself into the bathroom without her. She had followed him from her bedroom. Hopefully Gabriel can distract her with food or treats or something for the sort. At least someone under their roof should be happy right now. Castiel certainly isn’t and Gabriel is going to be irate with the attitude he’s getting.

As soon as he’s in the safety of the shower, he allows himself to relax slightly. He settles with his forehead pressed against the wall, letting the water work its magic at washing away his problems. The best that it does is cleanse his body of sweat. It does little to actually calm him down as his heart continues its painful dance. Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? Cardiac arrest would be _far_ more preferred over having to deal with this situation.

He’s not supposed to _like_ Dean like _this_. They were only supposed to be friends. That was the original intent when he befriend Dean and that’s what he decided when he learned about his feelings. His own emotions have betrayed him and now things are just going to be even _more_ difficult than they were before. How awkward are things going to be now that he was a little slow on the uptake but he’s already turned Dean down?

Well, technically speaking, neither one of them has outright asked the other out. Dean admitted his feelings and Castiel told him he couldn’t reciprocate them. Now his heart has made him a liar and he doesn’t like lying, even if it’s the only way he can continue to live in relative peace. But, that does raise a question. Liking someone is different from wanting to date them, right? Isn’t it entirely possible that he’s just mistaking the way Dean makes his heart race as regular feelings of friendship? How can he be _sure_?

The chances are _very_ slim and even Castiel can see that. He might be relatively new to romantic type feelings, but he’s not _entirely_ naïve. It’s just entirely too unsettling to be caught out like this. Castiel has always been sure about himself and who he is. Of course he was nervous changing the parameters of his life by adding _friends_ to it, but that didn’t leave him feeling as much at a loss as he does right now. His mind is a rioting mess and all he wants to do is try to figure out what he actually feels for Dean.

For instance, Castiel has never believed that a relationship requires a sexual component. Or rather, not for him at least. It’s perfectly understandable that there are many people out there who _do_ need those aspects in their relationships to feel comfortable. He just happens to be one of those ones that do not find it necessary.

At this point in his life, he’s not even sure if he really has much of an interest in sex to start with. It’s never been a driving force in his life and, after much reading on the matter, he’s more or less determined that he’s what one would consider _demi-sexual_. If he’s wrong about that, then so be it, but that’s what he’s identified with the most regarding his personal feelings and opinions on that topic. Thus far, it seems to fit. 

Castiel has always valued emotions over sex, despite never having actually had it himself. He’s not embarrassed to admit that he’s definitely masturbating before. Sometimes his body has needs that even he can’t shake. The only way to deal with those urges, if he’s feeling particularly obstinate, is to take _the sleep_. Regardless, he’s never masturbated while actually _thinking_ about someone. Sort of. Castiel tried once, but it didn’t feel right. Aside from thinking they were attractive, he didn’t _feel_ anything for that specific actor. That was back when the thought thinking about someone in particular was what you were supposed to do when you masturbated. He knows better now.

His problem is that he’s never been close enough to anyone to actually consider them a viable option for a relationship. Even if he did, he wouldn’t want to put them in the line of fire like his mother was with his father. Regardless, if he doesn’t include employees and the odd security agent swinging by to make sure everything is okay, then the only person that’s really been a part of his life since his parents died is Gabriel. It’s been a very lonely life for him, and Castiel has filled it with books, learning, and hobbies to fill the gaps where other people would normally fit.

And now his circle of thought brings him right back to his first question. Does he only like Dean as a friend, or is Castiel tricking himself into thinking that he likes him too because of his confession? It’s possible that he might think he’s attracted to Dean because he’s lonely. Is it possible to crave the intimacy of a relationship when you’ve never experienced one before? He’s certainly read more than enough about them, and seen plenty of movies and TV shows. It’s hard _not_ to be subjected to romantic and sexual relationships in most forms of media.

That said, given his beliefs on the matter, how can he confirm whether this is just an intense version of friendship feelings or if he really is attracted to Dean? At this point, Castiel has no clue whether or not his body will react to him. Yes, of course he thinks Dean is physically attractive, but thinking someone is pretty is _very_ different from being sexually attracted to them. If his body could react to Dean, if he could find himself sexually aroused by him, would that mean –?

Almost as if out of nowhere, his chest gets tight again. There’s a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his veins. Like he’s floating and falling all at the same time. If his emotional connection with Dean is deep enough, it’s _possible_ – as much as he hates to admit it – that he could be sexually attracted to him. Or so he’s been led to believe by the definition of demi-sexuality. For all he knows, that might not work for him. Everyone is different and sexuality is so ridiculously fluid that what his head thinks he is, his body might disagree.

In that case, would he – should he – Oh, Lord have mercy. Castiel covers his face with both hands and crouches at the far end of the tub. This is ridiculous. Even if it was to try and determine what exactly his feelings for Dean are, there’s no way he should dare to consider trying to _jerk off_ while thinking about him. Isn’t there something else? Isn’t there something _less_ than – well, than _that_ he could try?

Like a desperate mouse caught in a trap, Castiel’s thoughts run wild until he finally finds an answer. _Kissing_. That’s tame enough, isn’t it? If he thinks about kissing Dean and that does nothing for him, then obviously he’s feelings are nothing more than friendship like they’re _supposed_ to be. He’ll be damned if he’s going to let his heart get away from him and ruin one of his most treasured relationships at the moment. Dear God, but he hopes that it’s just being overzealous with the adrenaline left over from the Live Action Roleplaying.

Castiel gets to his feet again and situates himself back underneath the shower’s spray. He lets it beat away at his shoulders as he bring a hand to his mouth and runs his fingers over his lips. With a bit of luck, he might still be able to look Dean in the eyes after this. It’s just kissing, right? In some countries, they do it as a greeting. This isn’t the same as imagining them in sexual positions. A simple fantasy about kissing won’t taint their friendship. _Hopefully_.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and forces himself to think back to the party on New Year’s Eve. When he brings up the memory of Dean swaying in slightly, his eyes focused on Castiel’s lips, goosebumps break out across his skin despite the heat of the shower and it’s not an altogether unpleasant feeling. He swallows and his throat clicks as he changes the memory; imagining that the desire in Dean’s eyes didn’t make him run away.

His chest feels tight again and every breath is growing shorter as the Castiel in his fantasy – as _he_ leans in too, meeting Dean for his first kiss of the New Year. There is a slight problem with this pretend memory and it lies solely in the fact that Castiel has never been kissed before. He has no tactile memories to look back on and no sensations to recall. Regardless, he does the best that he can.

Another shiver runs through him when he tries to imagine what it would be like to have Dean’s lips move against his own. Or what it would be like to have his arms tight around him. The fantasy is – it’s much _nicer_ than Castiel expected it to be. When the make-believe Dean cups his face, he almost turns his cheek into it before remembering there is no one actually here beside himself. His skin tingles, wanting to know what that would feel like to have Dean’s hands – likely rough from all his work with the station – slide over it, pushing into his hair.

There’s a rising tide swelling inside him, pushing at his insides as his imagination slips into what he thinks it would be like to be held close, to actually _cuddle_ on a couch during a movie. The Dean in his mind can’t keep his hands to himself. He’s always touching; hair, cheeks, shoulders, arms. When they kiss, they sweep across Castiel’s body in the kind of gentle touch that makes his heart ache. He drops his hand to press against his chest, trying to smother the feeling.

No matter what they’re doing, Castiel knows that Dean would be gentle. He knows that it would be his first time with any of this, and he would be sweet. Even if they were undressing each other, he would likely cover every new inch of exposed skin with soft kisses that flutter against his skin. Dean would ask in a quiet rumble if Castiel was okay and if it was alright to continue. He wouldn’t do anything without consent and he would never push past what they would both be comfortable with.

Castiel shivers and bites his bottom lip, not even realizing that his fantasy has moved locations. They’re no longer in Dean’s house, and they’re not even on the couch. They’re spread out on his bed in the other room where the origami that Dean made for him is in full view. He spent time practicing and making each and every one of those for _Castiel_ , and all because he thought he would like them. In all honesty, now that he knows who they’re from, he adores them. They were objects that caused him conflict before and now they’re treasures; gifts from someone who _matters_.

That ache in his heart surges again and Castiel looks down to glare at it. He promptly forgets about that and instead stares at a much more noticeable problem that has developed. It wasn’t his intention, but his body is apparently in full gear to disobey him, as an erection was most _definitely_ not in his plans for this shower. But there it is, standing proud and spiteful. Castiel is, against all odds, _aroused_ and he’s absolutely horrified by it. All he thought about was kissing! He thought about how gentle and affectionate Dean would be. How _dare_ his body do this without his permission! It’s rude and unnecessary and what in the hell is he supposed to do with it?

Obviously he’s either going to have to turn the water to cold and force it to go away, which probably won’t be very enjoyable and will likely pitch his mood even further into the depths. Or his other option is to act on it. He’s masturbated before. How hard would it be not keep himself from thinking about Dean while doing it now? After a moment’s contemplation, he determines that it would be _very_ hard. His mind is full of nothing _but_ Dean right now.

This is the worst and Castiel knows he’s going to hate himself for this later – more so than he already does now. There’s a war in his body and his will is losing to it. His libido has seen its chance and it’s taking it. With a groan he drops his head back and glares at the ceiling, his hand sliding down his stomach to circle around his erection. Maybe if he hates this enough, it’ll go away. If he keeps his mind empty and focuses on the patterns in the ceiling tile, he can just _not_ do this.

Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t work. If anything, it has the opposite effect. His body _likes_ the rough stroking, quick and to the point in an attempt to have this over sooner rather than later. And his mind has just outright betrayed him as a new thought creeps in, asking if Dean would ever be this rough? It’s possible. He probably wouldn’t _always_ be gentle. Moods can change sometimes, and if they were really worked up, they might –

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. No. _No_. There is no _they_. He and Dean would not and _will_ not be doing anything together. At no point in time will Castiel ever be in a situation where he would be kissed back into the pillows while Dean undressed him. His own hands will never have the chance to be confident or shake with nerves as he slowly peels away Dean’s clothes too. He won’t let himself ever find out what Dean’s skin feels like under his fingertips, or what spots would make him laugh and which ones would make him shiver.

They won’t hold each other close, mouths together but not always kissing as they explore their bodies for the first time together. Castiel won’t ever hear Dean’s voice whispering in his ear, soft and hot and full of whispered affections. His bed won’t creak when they rock together, hips moving lazily because they’re not in it for the pleasure but just to touch and connect and _be_ together. He won’t know what it’s like to have Dean gasp into their kisses as he shudders against him and comes, but Castiel does think it would be pretty amazing to be the one to make him do it.

A gasp catches in the back of his throat and he chokes on it; doubling over in the shower as he comes. Of course _this_ would turn out to be one of the best orgasms he’s ever had. It’s almost immediately marred by the storm of guilt that clogs his lungs and makes it hard to breathe. He has never been more disgusted with himself for masturbating. Castiel completely and utterly failed at not thinking about Dean. He feels sick right down to his stomach as he washes his hands of his mess.

The shadow of his conscious is almost a physical weight on his shoulders now. All he wanted to be was friends with Dean. He didn’t plan for things to develop like this. He didn’t _want_ his feelings to come this far. This is just going to be another secret he has to keep to himself. The only person he could trust to keep his feelings a secret is Gabriel, because he’s the only one who might understand just _why_ Castiel doesn’t want to act on these emotions.

He was already worried that perhaps Witches might go after good friends, and now everything feels like it has been amplified to an impossible degree. There is a very real _fear_ freezing his ribs; turning his body cold despite the heat of the shower. What if someone outside of his family finds out that he likes Dean? What if they decide to use it against him? A Witch could find out and Dean could end up like Castiel’s mother and – He presses a hand to his mouth to fight against the rising urge to throw up. Gabriel spared him the actual details of his mother’s death and he’s never been morbidly curious enough to look it up, but he still doesn’t want that fate to befall anyone.

While it might not be today, or tomorrow, or even a week from now, Castiel knows that the dark magic coven that killed his parents will come after him again. It’s only a matter of time before they find him, and he’s going to have to run. No one, not even Dean, would be safe in a relationship with him. If Castiel acted upon these feelings – if he asked Dean out and they started dating – what would happen when the Witches come? He would run, but would Dean come with him? That would mean cutting all ties with his friends and family here, and that’s not something Castiel would ever be able to ask him to do.

This uncertain future is a pain for him, and it’s not something he wants to put Dean through. It would be best for the both of them if he never makes mention of these feelings. They’ll have to fade eventually, won’t they? Castiel certainly hopes so. This is a silent burden he doesn’t want to bear for very long. These new feelings are small and a nuisance, but if he focuses on his _friendship_ with Dean, they should pass. If he’s lucky.

His skin stings when he turns the temperature of the water up again, draining what will be the last of their hot water tank by now. It’s cathartic in a sense, but does little to make him feel clean. Even scrubbing every inch of his body until it’s a raw shade of red doesn’t take away the terrible weight that makes his insides feel like they’re curdling. Castiel masturbated to sexual thoughts about his best friend and that’s something he’s never going to be able to change. It happened and all he can do is try and put it behind him – just like he’s done with many things in his life.

When he finally leaves the bathroom, the mirror is fogged so completely that he can’t even make out any details of his face – and he’s vaguely thankful for it. Castiel doubts that he could look himself in the eye right now, much less anyone else. He’s proven right when he steps out into the kitchen with his hair still dripping and a towel around his waist, only to find that Gabriel is still waiting for him. Nike is much more vocal with her displeasure about having to wait outside for him and she rubs against Castiel’s ankles, not caring that his skin is still damp.

Gabriel doesn’t get up from his chair, but he does cross his arms. “There are two ways we can do this, little bro. You decide if you want to do it the easy way, or the hard way.”

Neither one sounds like a good option right now. Luckily for Gabriel, all the fight has gone out of Castiel. He feels like a rudderless ship adrift in a very confusing sea. If there is anyone in this world that he could go to for advice – who would understand the unique situation that he’s in – that person is sitting here in front of him now.

“I think I – I _like_ Dean.”

The confession is actually made to the floor, but at least Castiel manages to say it. He looks up sharply when Gabriel gasps loudly and claps both hands to his cheeks. In an instant, he’s on his feet and hugging him hard enough that he nearly lifts Castiel from his feet. It puts his towel in a precarious situation and he scrambles to keep it from falling.

“Oh, Cassie!” Gabriel grips him by the shoulders and gives him a good shake the moment he lets him go from the hug. “I’m so _happy_.”

Well, at least _one_ of them is, though Castiel wishes he wasn’t. “This is _not_ a good thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember what you said.” He waves one hand before tapping Castiel on the nose. “But this is _different_. This is _better_!”

“How so? I told him that I don’t want a relationship.” Castiel shakes his head and tries to step out of reach. He’s fine with how Gabriel can be touchy-feely on occasion, but not when he’s nearly naked and the only thing covering his dignity is a loosely tied towel.

Gabriel claps his hands together and almost breaks into what would undoubtedly be an embarrassing series of wiggles. “And now you do! That’s the glorious thing about people, Cassie. They can _change_ their mind. Now all you need to do is call Dean up, confess your undying love for him, and live happily ever after like all the good fairy tale princes do.”

This is not even remotely as helpful as Castiel had hoped talking with his brother would be. He attempts to protest, but Gabriel shushes him with a finger to his lips. “Before I can let the two of you hop in that muscle car of his and drive off into the sunset, I need you to listen to me. If you have sex, wear a condom. Sexually transmitted Infections and shit are still a thing, even if neither one of you can get pregnant, okay?”

Now he’s just being ridiculous and Castiel slaps his hand away. “I’m done with this conversation.” It’s not what he wanted, and it’s _definitely_ not what he needs right now.

Regardless, Gabriel follows him to his bedroom. The only one walking closer to Castiel than him is Nike, meowing loudly at his heels. “And I don’t care how much you like him and want to fuck his brains out, you _can’t_ tell him what you are. Dean’s a nice kid and I trust him with you and all, but not with that kind of info. That’s something you should tell him on your wedding night.”

Here are a few more points they differ on. “I said I was attracted to him. I did _not_ say that I wanted to ‘ _fuck his brains out’_. I never said I was going to _marry_ him, and I’m fairly certain knowing the species of your partner is a rather important thing.” Castiel turns sharply in his doorway, nearly causing Gabriel to walk into him. “ _Especially_ in my case.”

It’s his turn to hush Gabriel, though he uses his whole hand to cover his mouth. “None of this matters anyways. I’m not going to date him.”

“What?” He pulls Castiel’s hand down and, to his credit, _actually_ looks disappointed. “Why not?”

“I already told you why.” Castiel sighs, stepping back and putting his hand on the door in preparations to close it. “I’m not going to date someone who doesn’t know what I am. Dean should know the risks involved _before_ getting into anything with me.”

As expected, Gabriel shakes his head. “That’s a bad idea, Cassie. What if he tells –?”

“What if he ends up like _Mom_?”

That makes Gabriel’s jaw snap shut with an audible clack of his teeth. For a solid minute, he stares at Castiel with wide eyes full of what is likely sympathy but only looks like pity to him. Eventually, he releases a soft sigh and reaches out. “Oh, Cassie, that’s not going to –”

Castiel was wrong. He can’t handle this conversation right now. It’s derailed well past what he thought he could deal with and now it’s time to call an end to it. “I’ve made my decision, Gabriel. No one is going to die because of me.”

Before the argument can be continued, he shuts the door. Nike slips into the bedroom in the nick of time, very nearly losing fur from the end of her tail. She follows Castiel to his bed. Wet hair, skin, and towel be damned; he flops across the bed without a care of any of it. With a soft chirrup, Nike jumps up next to him and proceeds to attempt walking across his stomach. She always enjoys curling up on his chest when he’s lying on his back, but her claws need clipping and the needle tips aren’t comfortable on his bare skin. Thankfully her cat tree is being delivered next week and she can scratch that to her heart’s content, though her claws will still need clipping on occasion.

To save his skin for the time being, Castiel rolls onto his side to force her to sit on the bed. She doesn’t like it at first, but a good petting lulls her into it. Nike starts purring before she lies down too, her back to Castiel’s belly. In this position he has a perfect view of the origami lined up on his dresser. It takes him a minute to realize that Dean didn’t give him a new one today.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes and buries his fingers in Nike’s long fur. She won’t be able to give him an answer, but he asks all the same. “What do I do now?”

_ _

**_Sunday – January 10 th, 2016_ **

“Why are we stopping?” Charlie looks up from her phone the moment they start slowing down. As soon as she realizes where they are, she looks down again. “Oh. Coffee! Good thinking. Get me my usual.”

Dean puts the Impala in park and shakes his head. “Hate to burst your bubble, your Highness, but this isn’t a coffee run.” He can understand why she’d think that, though. They _did_ just stop across the street from _The Graveyard Shift_ after all, and they’re probably just minutes away from it being turned over to _Trick or Treat_ for the day. “I’m just dropping something off. I won’t even by a whole five minutes.”

She rolls her eyes at him with a sigh. “Didn’t you see enough of him yesterday?”

“Don’t be a dick. I’m not even going to see Cas right now.” He sticks his tongue out at her as he gets out of the car. “Seriously, I’m just leaving something for him to get later.”

Whatever she says following that, if she says anything at all, is cut off when he shuts the door behind him. Ah, doors. They save him from so many lectures and awkward situations. If he were a priest, he would totally bless doors because they’re just that awesome. And that’s just one of the many reasons why he should never be a priest. He’d abuse his priestly powers way too much. Dean would be the Oprah of priests; you get a blessing, and _you_ get a blessing! Blessings for everyone!

He gets a good chuckle from that as he crosses the street and heads into the café. The bell above the door jingles. There’s no one at the counter, but Chuck is sitting at his usual assembly of tables and tapping away at his laptop with a single minded focus that Dean actually finds a little admirable. Since Chuck doesn’t look up at the bell, Dean decides that it’s best to not disturb him. The poor guy probably has a deadline coming up and the less distractions he has, the better.

An alarm starts beeping in the kitchen, followed quickly with a soft curse. Jess appears in the doorway looking a little flustered. “Sorry, I’ll be with you in a mo– Oh, hi Dean!”

“Hey, Jess.” Dean lifts a hand in a short wave. “I’m just dropping something off for Cas. Is it okay if I run upstairs to leave it on their door?”

She raises an eyebrow but accompanies it with a shrug. “Sure, go ahead. I’ve got croissants I need to pull out of the oven. You want one?”

“As awesome as that sounds, I already ate and I’ve got a fiery queen waiting for me in the car.” He shakes his head and ducks into the kitchen after her. “Thanks for the offer though. Rain check?”

“I was still going to make you pay.” Jess laughs and waves him off as she crosses to the ovens. “The only one who likes you enough to give you free food is getting ready for bed upstairs.”

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. “You know, my baby brother _does_ work here too, right?”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ what I said.” She winks at him only to break down laughing when he puts a hand over his heart and staggers up the stairs.

This week is a little different than his usual origami delivery. Since Cas definitely knows that it’s him now, there’s no real need to be secretive about it. At first he wasn’t really sure about leaving an origami this weekend, given the whole LARPing thing. But then they had that hug last night and it _really_ boosted his confidence where Cas is concerned.

If he had the time, Dean would have texted ahead so he could give it in person. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to do that today, so Dean took the extra effort of sewing some string through the top of the origami bat he finished folding last night. In hindsight, he wished he done this to all the ones that had wings. Like the crane or the dragonfly. They would look super cute hanging from Cas’s bedroom ceiling.

He hangs the bat on the door handle and leaves it at that. Cas or Gabe will discover it eventually and he doesn’t exactly want to disturb either of them. Gabe might still be sleeping and Cas could be on his way to bed or something. Either way, it’s the wrong side of nine o’clock in the morning and Dean would personally hate to be disturbed no matter if this is considered his morning or his evening. Whenever Cas gets it, he hopes that he likes it.

After a quick goodbye with Jess, Dean heads back to the Impala. Charlie gives him an intense side-eye while he starts the car and he knows exactly what she’s going to lecture him about. It would be in his best interest to head that off before she can begin.

“You ready to command your subjects again, my Queen?” He flashes her a bright smile and wiggling eyebrows. Dean knows that nothing works better at distracting her than playing up to her ego about her position within Moondoor.

Charlie snorts, but she starts grinning again. “You fucking know it.” She slaps the Impala’s dash and points forward. “Onwards, handmaiden!”

“I need a new title.” He sighs and starts pulling away from the curb. It was a great joke when they started out, and he’s still pretty fond of it, but it’s now kind of a bit of a tradition that he ask to change the title at least once during an event.

“ _Never_.”

And there’s her answer, as it’s been since the very first day they joined the local LARP group. Ah, nostalgia. Their friendship is fucking fantastic and he wouldn’t change a thing about it.

*

**_Tuesday – January 19 th, 2016_ **

When he’s playing video games on his own and there’s going to be food involved, Dean has a setup that keeps his hands grease free so he can play without issue. His arrangement involves sitting on the floor with a pillow under his ass and his back against the couch. He drags the table right up to his chest and puts his bowl or plate of food practically under his chin. This way, he can use the game controller in his lap and all he needs to do is tilt his head a little bit to eat whatever is on his plate. Usually he only does this if he’s got pizza or chips. It’s gotta be something easy to eat hands free or he doesn’t even bother.

Since Charlie and Jo are both working today, Dean took it upon himself to try one of his favourite games on a harder difficulty. He didn’t even bother getting dressed. It’s damn near seven o’clock in the evening and he’s still wearing his pajamas. That makes for a hell of a comfortable day and he’s pretty sure he spent it wisely. He was a good little adult earlier and did all his chores before he sat down to spend the rest of it playing video games.

Dean is in the middle of trying to kick Demyx’s ass in Kingdom Hearts 2 when he hears keys in the door. It could be one of two people right now, and neither one is worth pausing this game. Demyx has always been one of the hardest battles for him, no matter what difficulty he’s playing. He takes a bite of pizza almost absentmindedly, his entire focus narrowed in on the TV.

“Hey baby, I’ve got a delivery for you!” His mom walks in, confirming his suspicions that it would either be her or Sam. Or it could have been Dad, actually, but it usually requires a lot of begging to get him to come over on a weekday. He’s a weekend kind of visitor.

Mom sighs and her footsteps bring her over to the couch. “Is this what you do on your day off?”

“Of course not.” Dean shakes his head without taking his eyes off the screen. He weighs the pros and cons of pausing the game to talk with her. If he doesn’t, he might lose the battle and he’ll be fucked if he’s going to sit through _another_ repeat of the cut scene. That makes the decision and he pauses the game so he can twist to look up at his mom. “You gonna stick around? When I’m done this fight, I could break out the Wii and we could re-enact Wimbledon.”

She snorts and puts a few cloth bags on the couch behind his head. “I’m going to have to pass this time, sweetie. I’m just dropping this stuff off. It was on sale and I might have ‘accidentally’ bought too much.”

“Thanks, Mom.” There’s no point in pointing out that he’s a grown ban with two roommates and he doesn’t need her buying him extra toilet paper or boxes of Kraft Dinner. She’ll do it no matter what he says. Once a mom, always a mom.

“Are you eating directly off the plate?” Mom rests her elbows on the back of the couch and leans forward to eyeball his pizza.

Dean eats a bite to prove that yes, yes he most definitely is. “It keeps my hands clean for playing.”

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or if I should roll my eyes at you.” She shakes her head, but there’s still a smile on her lips.

Mom is also eyeballing the pizza box and Dean can read her like a book. “You want a slice?”

“I shouldn’t, but –” She pauses and glances around like her own personal Jiminy Cricket is going to pop out of nowhere to reprimand her for it. “Oh, okay. One slice.” She hops the back of the couch to sit cross legged at the end closest to the pizza. While she gets a slice from the box, she gestures at the TV. “So what’s this that you’re playing?”

“You really want me to explain?” Dean squints at her; skeptical. She’s asked about video games before, but she never actually _gets_ them. It’s more like she listens for the first five seconds and then zones out, making Dean feel like a ranting idiot.

Mom shrugs and leans back into the couch. “It’s not like I have anything better to do. Either I hang out with you here for a little while, or I go home to listen to John bitch for the rest of eternity about the Canadians cheating at hockey.”

Oh, so _that’s_ why she was shopping on a Tuesday. “I’m guessing the game didn’t go well?”

“He swears they’re using _magic_ to cheat.”

Dean rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his pizza. He shouldn’t talk with his mouth full, but his mom’s pretty chill about those kinds of rules. “He’s just butthurt that they’re just that good. Their whole country is ice. What does he expect?”

“See, that’s what I told him.” Mom makes a sharp gesture with one hand before breaking down laughing. “You should have seen how mad he got!”

Yup, that most definitely sounds like his dad. Dean’s snort turns into a full on laugh and he turns back to the game. “Give me a few minutes to finish up this battle and then we can have a nice proper hang out.”

“Good luck, baby.”

After a good twenty minutes, Dean’s ass has been thoroughly handed to him and the game saved. His mom is a total liar because they _do_ end up switching over to the Wii and moving the coffee table for a good ol’ fashioned tennis match. This is one of the few video games they actually play together and these are times that Dean wouldn’t give up for the world.

*

**_Friday – January 22 nd, 2016_ **

What in the hell is that ungodly noise? Dean groans and lifts his head, trying to squint in the darkness at his docking station. There’s a clock on it and he should be able to read it, but it’s really fucking hard to even just get his eyes open. When he manages that, Dean discovers that the noise turns out to be his ringtone. The screen of his phone is lit up, showing the picture of him and Cas in their Halloween costumes. Underneath it, the clock reads that it’s just barely half past six in the goddamn morning.

If this isn’t about some kind of emergency, Dean is going to be a rabbit of negative euphoria, as Douglas Richardson would put it. He really should get a new podcast to listen to instead of just listening to Cabin Pressure during his down time at the station. And he should find out if Cas has listened to it yet or not. Maybe not right now, though. Right now he should actually answer the phone and find out why in the hell Cas is calling him at ass o’clock in the morning on his _day off_.

Sure, Dean could just _not_ answer the phone. It’s been just over twenty-four hours since he last saw Cas, but that was just as strained a meeting as all their conversations have been since the LARP weekend. When they hung out last Saturday, Cas didn’t even go for a hug and he was super awkward the whole time they were watching movies. Dean’s not exactly sure what’s going on with him or what he might’ve done to cause it, but he’s also been trying really hard not to push their boundaries. For all he knows, Cas could be working through some shit of his own and he just needs time.

He keeps that in mind when he finally manages to answer his phone. “’Ello?” Dean’s groggy as hell and he’s not sure if he’s even going to be understandable, but he’ll make the effort.

“Dean!”

“Is th’ café on fire?” That better be the reason for why he’s calling so early.

Cas doesn’t even sound fazed. “No, but this is very important. Sam told Jess, who told Anna, who told Balthazar, who told me that your _birthday_ is in two days.”

Is it? Dean probably knew that, but right now his head feels like it’s full of wool so it’s a little hard to remember if he cares about it. “Uh-huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He makes an affronted sound, like he’s _insulted_ the information was kept from him – which it wasn’t.

“I dunno, Cas.” Dean yawns and pulls the blanket up over his shoulders, making himself comfortable again. “Didn’t really come up, I guess.” He tucks the phone between his head and the pillow so he doesn’t have to keep holding it. “S’no big deal.”

There’s that personally insulted noise again. “Yes, yes it is a big deal. As such, I want you to come to the café tonight before I start my shift this evening.”

“Why?” He’s going to go, of course. But he feels like it’s at least a little bit necessary to question the reason he was called at this ridiculous time.

“Because you work tomorrow and I assume that on Sunday you’re going to be spending what little time you’ll be awake celebrating with your family.” Cas says it so matter-of-factly and he’s actually pretty spot on. That’s basically exactly how Dean’s weekend is going to go.

A smile cracks through his sleepiness and Dean hums. “S’true.”

“Good. Then come over tonight around six o’clock.” Cas’s tone turns softer; happier. “Don’t worry about eating beforehand. I will take care of dinner for us.”

“Okay.” Another yawn cracks his jaw and Dean can literally feel his body getting heavier.

Cas drops his voice into a gentle whisper. “I’m sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep now and I will text you later to remind you of our plans.”

Aw, that’s sweet. Cas is such a good guy and Dean hums happily. “I’d never f’get hanging with you, Cas.”

There’s a long pause before a soft sigh makes the line crackle with static. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”

That sounds like an _excellent_ idea and all he can manage is to hum in agreement. He’s vaguely aware that the call ends, but by then Dean is too far gone to do much more than move his phone out of the way. It doesn’t even make it back to the docking station before he’s asleep again.

*

There’s no real reason for him to be nervous right now, but he kinda is. Something changed between him and Cas after the LARPing weekend and Dean has no idea what it was. Tonight shouldn’t be any different from how they usually hang out, but he still has a knot twisted up under his ribs when he knocks on the apartment door.

Usually Cas or Gabriel would answer it in a heartbeat or two, but tonight is different. All Dean gets tonight is a few words shouted through the door. “Come in!”

Yeah, okay. That’s really not helping his nerves right now. He knows that this is something to do with his birthday, but he’s still kind of on edge. Dean doesn’t much like surprises, really. Jump scares are probably his least favourite kind of thing to see in a horror or thriller movie. It’s the cheapest of scare tactics and he hopes that he’s not going to get a pie to the face or something. That actually sounds like something Gabriel would pull, whether Cas wanted him to or not.

Needless to say, it turns out that bracing himself is pretty pointless. Dean walks into the kitchen to find Cas standing beside the table with Nike in his arms. Gabriel is sitting on the far side looking less than impressed with being conscious this late in the day. While that would usually get a good chuckle out of him, Dean is more distracted by that fact that everyone is wearing a party hand – even Nike. Better yet, there’s an apple pie right there on the table with a single candle sticking out of it.

Dean’s heart gets all wiggly and jittery in his chest at the whole set up. This is just so fucking _adorable_ of Cas to do last minute. Yeah, there’s a card and a present next to the pie, but everything else is just so – He doesn’t even have words for it. He’s just so _touched_ that Cas would go to all the effort of putting together a birthday party for him like this when he only learned, like, twelve hours ago that Dean’s birthday is only a few days away. The urge to kiss him is _really_ strong right now.

The moment the door is closed behind him, Cas looks over his shoulder and gives Gabriel what must be a significant look. All it does is make him sigh, roll his eyes, and pull out a party horn. He puts it to his lips, gives Dean a look that screams that he’s dead inside, and blows. The horn uncurls and shatters the silence with its ridiculous rasping honk, making the end shiver and dance. It startles Nike so much that her fur puffs out slightly and her eyes get three times bigger.

Cas looks back at Dean with the kind of bright smile that makes his knees go weak. “Happy birthday!”

It’s about then that Nike starts trying to paw the hat off of her head and Dean can’t hold his laughter in anymore. He shakes his head and shrugs out of his jacket. “Thanks, guys. This is great.”

Gabriel sends the party horn skittering across the table and slumps back in his chair. “Yeah, yeah. You’d better appreciate the pie. I don’t do a last minute job like this for just anyone.”

“It’s pie!” Dean toes off his shoes on the mat next to the door so he can actually walk over to the table. “I don’t appreciate any other food more than I do pie, and I’m a lover of a many foods.”

Cas nods as he puts Nike on the floor and takes the hat from her. “It’s true. Pie is his favourite.”

“Alright, alright.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and muffles a yawn behind his hand. “Just blow out the candle so you can make your wish and open your presents. Cassie said I’m not allowed to go to bed until then.”

Dean pulls out the closest chair and drops into it. “What; no song?”

“We don’t sing.” He huffs and, if anything, frowns even deeper. Nike rubs against Dean’s ankle with a loud meow. Gabriel actually cracks a smile and gestures across the table. “There. That was your song.”

Cas sighs and pulls out the chair next to Dean so he can sit too. “Gabriel, be nice.” He gives him a stern look before pushing the pie closer to Dean. “Now blow out your candle.”

There’s an expectant look in his eye and it’s putting Dean’s suspicions on edge. He turns a squint on him before glancing down at the pie. “It’s a trick candle, isn’t it?”

Shock passes over Cas’s face and he sits back sharply, a hand on his chest. “I would _never_ use a trick candle on you.”

Yeah, no. That tone is doing _nothing_ to convince Dean that neither Cas nor Gabriel fucked with the candle or the pie in some way. He doesn’t have any actual proof, so all he can do is making his wish and blow it out. His wish is a hell of a long shot, but so are all birthday wishes, aren’t they? When he turned sixteen he wished for a motorcycle. When he turned twenty he was feeling particularly randy and wished for a threesome. Yet here he is, turning twenty-three and he has never owned a motorcycle or had a threesome.

Since he has a long record of not getting _any_ of his birthday wishes, Dean doesn’t see much of a problem with the one he makes today. As he blows out the candle, he wishes for a sweet kiss from Cas for his birthday. It’s actually two days away, so he doesn’t expect it tonight – or ever. Nope. Not getting his hopes up. That is not a thing he should not be doing because Cas turned him down and no matter what kind of hints he might _think_ he’s seeing, things were made clear and Dean will respect that. He’ll respect it because he is a _good_ friend and he is _not_ still super crushing on his friend.

About a second after he makes his wish and blows out the candle, the flame flickers back to life in a different colour. Hah! So, it _is_ a trick candle. “I fucking _knew it_.”

“Try again.” Cas nudges his shoulder and gestures at the cake.

Dean can see his gummy grin out of the corner of his eye and now he’s starting to think that maybe this is one of those candles that might blow up. No, no. Cas wouldn’t do that to him. Would he? Nah. It won’t hurt to try again. He gears himself up and blows the candle out, again it comes back to life but this time in a whole new colour. Holy shit, this is definitely a trick candle but it’s unlike any kind that Dean has ever seen and it’s kinda really neat?

It goes through the whole rainbow before Dean sits back and glances at Cas. “I’ve never seen one do that before. Where did you get it?”

“It’s just a regular candle that Gabriel spelled to make it do that.” Cas’s smile is actually full of pride as he nods across the table at his brother.

“Crap, that’s cool.”

Gabriel licks his finger and thumb and reaches over to pinch the flame out. “Yup, I’m awesome.” He sits back with a yawn. “Now let’s get the present thing over with so I can go get reacquainted with my nice clean sheets.”

The proud smile falls into a frown and Cas narrows his eyes. “Stop rushing him.”

Dean has to try hard not to snort a laugh when Gabriel makes a face and picks up the party horn to toot it at them again. He distracts himself from the urge to have a hearty chuckle by focusing on his presents. Since birth he’s been told that it’s bad luck to open a gift before opening the card, so he starts with that.

It’s a pretty bland card with just a smiley face on the front and the standard _Happy Birthday_ on the inside, but Dean is honestly surprised to find that it’s signed from Gabriel too. He’s not even fazed at seeing Nike’s name and a paw print in the corner. Tucked inside the card is a handmade laminated gift certificate. It has both Gabriel and Cas’s signatures on it too. There are ten hand drawn boxes on the card surrounding the words _Ten Free Coffees to the Birthday Boy_.

Now is a much better time for him to laugh and Dean tries to hide it with the card. He holds up his gift certificate and flaps it back and forth. “Who is this from?”

Gabriel holds up his hand and almost immediately uses it to cover a yawn. “This is a onetime thing. If you photocopy it, I’ll know.”

This is a lot tamer than any coupon booklet gift that he’s seen before, and Dean loves it. Also maybe because it’s a little bit hilarious. “This is great. Thanks!”

“Great.” Gabriel pushes away from the table and stands up. “Now I’m going to bed. Make sure you keep it down, alright?”

Cas nods and his smile comes back. “Thank you for staying, Gabriel. I appreciate it.”

“Next time you pull the sad puppy eyes on me, I’m poking them out with a chopstick.” Gabriel points at him and adds in a warning look, but it’s really softened by his own smile. He heads off to his bedroom with a wave over his shoulder and another yawn.

With a laugh, Cas sighs and turns in his seat to face Dean again. “I’m sorry about that. He gets grumpy when I make him do things without at least twenty-four hours notice _and_ make him stay up late.”

“What did you make him do on short notice?”

“Make you a pie and do some last minute shopping.” Cas shrugs and carefully slides the wrapped gift closer. “This one is from me, even if Gabriel was the one who had to go buy it.”

No matter how hard he tries not to be, Dean is still pretty excited to open the gift. He even bounces in his seat a little bit, if only because it’s a little thrilling that Cas went to all this effort to throw him an impromptu birthday party. And the present is just so nicely _wrapped_. This definitely has Cas’s touch to it. After wrapping gifts together for Christmas, of course he would know. And the bow looks like the perfect tool to distract Nike from getting too comfy on his foot. He wants to move it and he just can’t bring himself to do it with her there.

As soon as the bow hits the floor, Nike is off like a shot. She bats it across the kitchen in an instant and Dean flexes his foot without the guilt of moving a small and cute animal off of it. He looks up at Cas with what he hopes is more innocence than amusement. “Sorry about making a mess.”

“Don’t be. That bit was entirely for her.” Cas shrugs and sits back so he can watch her smack the bow underneath the table.

Dean snorts and returns to unwrapping the rest of his gift. “Holy shit, Cas.” He tosses the wrapping paper onto the table, narrowly missing the pie because he’s completely and utterly distracted by the _Amazon Kindle_ in his hands. “What is this?”

“An e-reader.” Cas doesn’t even sound like he’s being sarcastic. He leans in excitedly to watch while Dean opens the box to take it out. “I have to admit that I already opened it and turned it on. I may have taken the liberty of filling it with all the books I have in my bedroom, including the ones I haven’t read yet. They’re there for you if you want to continue with our little book club.”

Once the Kindle is powered up, Dean takes a quick glance through the list. “Holy crap, Cas, this is awesome. Thank you!”

“You like it?” There’s a hint of uncertainty in Cas’s voice and it’s goddamn adorable.

“I love it.” He nods and tucks it back into the box for safe keeping. “It’s going to save me a _ton_ in cash and space. Seriously, thank you.”

Cas lights up again before ducking his head slightly. “Yes, well, not everyone is as lucky as I am to have a brother with a secret passion for thrift stores. That’s where he finds all my books.”

He already knew that, but it’s still fun to think of Gabriel browsing thrift shops. Dean definitely thinks he’s the kind of guy who would try on all the silly coats you find in second hand stores – like an oversized faux fur coat that was _never_ in style. Something like that would probably completely dwarf Gabriel and would look fucking ridiculous and most definitely something that Dean wants to see one day.

He puts the box down and gestures at Cas. “Up.”

“Up?” Cas tilts his head and frowns. “That’s a movie, right? I’m not sure if it’s on Netflix, but we can look for it if you want to. I don’t think we can put movies on an e-reader.”

Oh dear _God_ , he is just too fucking adorable and it makes Dean’s heart twist. He laughs and gets to his feet. “ _Stand_ , you dork.”

Realization dawns and Cas stands up too, though a little slower. Dean pulls him into a hug, because even though they haven’t done that lately, this is a different situation. A thank you for a birthday gift most definitely requires a hug. This time, though, Cas goes all stiff in the hug. It takes him a few seconds to return it, but it’s nothing like the way they used to hug. He usually melts like he’s soaking up everything about it.

Cas pulls out of the hug first and clears his throat. He ducks his head as he picks up the pie. “I’m going to let this stay warm in the oven and serve up supper. It’s spaghetti and meatballs. And, yes, I have garlic bread to include it.”

“That sounds delicious. Thanks, Cas.”

By the time Dean sits down again, Cas is already across the kitchen. That was one of the most confusing hugs he’s had in a very long time. And the worst thing about the confusion is the healthy dose of _hope_ that’s wrapped up in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these next few chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_ _

**_Friday – February 5 th, 2016_ **

Dean is pretty sure that he was never this nervous before he met Cas. There are butterflies holding a grudge match in his belly and it’s not fair. At this rate, his gloves are going to be a ragged mess by the time he gets to the café. He’s been twisting them between his hands since before he even left the station for his usual coffee run. It’s not cold enough to be wearing them, which is good considering the fact that he’s dragging his heels and kicking up the smattering of snow on the sidewalk.

Since they more or less made up in early January, Cas has been over to his place when he has a Saturday or Sunday off to watch a few movies and snack on some pizza. From what he can tell, they’re definitely more comfortable with each other now than they were after that colossal fuck up of a New Year’s party. Things have been going so well between them now that Dean has somehow got it in his head that it’s time for the big guns, so to speak.

Basically, what he wants to do is ask Cas over for dinner. Instead of ordering pizza and watching a movie, Dean wants to _cook_ for him. Maybe on Saturday, maybe sometime next week before Cas works. Whatever it is, Dean just wants to be the one to prepare a meal for Cas. He enjoys cooking and he wants to see how Cas enjoys it, unlike when he just gave him leftovers in a container or something. It’s just not the same as sitting down together to eat a meal that Dean cooked specifically for him.

Yup, that’s all he wants. Just a nice little dinner between him and Cas with maybe a movie afterwards. It would _not_ be a date, even if this is maybe an underhanded way of doing something for Valentine’s Day together. Okay, so it’s not _the_ greatest thing, but it’s going to be purely platonic. The way it goes in Dean’s head, the whole thing would be completely unromantic. In fact, the only somewhat romantic thing about it would be that it’s a private, home cooked meal.

Valentine’s Day this year is on a Sunday and Dean will actually have it mostly off from work. He finishes a shift that morning, but he might very well be called in at some point. Apparently Valentine’s Day is one of those days of the year when people get really dumb. If it’s not an overabundance of romantic candles setting something on fire, then it’s improperly tending fireplaces and rugs being placed _way_ too close to them. Bobby really needs to get on TV doing some kind of fire safety public service announcement before every fucking holiday because the general public just gets _stupid_ about this shit sometimes. And that’s why Dean needs to be prepared for being called in, just like he was on New Year’s Eve.

The whole reason Dean wants to do something with Cas this weekend is so that it’s not obviously a date night. He doesn’t want to make Cas uncomfortable, or make him think that something is going to happen. If they do something together on what is apparently the most romantic day of the year, then Cas might get the wrong idea. Yes, Dean has feelings for him and is totally attracted to him. They’ve covered that. But he’s not going to act on them, which they’ve _also_ gone over.

That’s what makes this whole asking Cas over for dinner thing a ridiculously bad idea. They’re not dating, but Dean still wants to do something romantic in the most urromantic way he can think of doing it. And doing it this weekend means that Cas probably won’t think that it’s a Valentine’s Day thing. Which means Dean can get away with spending Valentine’s Day with the person he actually wants to spend it with, and then not do anything on the real Day.

When he thought this up a few nights ago, he thought it was genius. Now that he’s about to see Cas and actually ask about it, he’s _really_ doubting himself. What if Cas figures out what this a pseudo Valentine’s Day thing? He might refuse because he’s already said that he’s not interested in Dean like that. But this isn’t what this is about. Dean doesn’t want a kiss during or after the date, and he’s sure as hell not expecting sex. This is just a Valentine’s Day date between friends that doesn’t happen on Valentine’s Day and isn’t really a date.

Fuck, this made so much sense to him the other day.

Goddammit, Dean hates this time of the year. He’s actually never been in a relationship long enough to cover Valentine’s Day. They’ve always started after it, or ended before it. Which means he’s never had a relationship last longer than ten months. February fourteenth leaves a sour taste in his mouth and he hates it and all the stupid feelings of inadequacy that it brings. ‘ _Singles Awareness Day_ ’ is just as bad, but it’s always thrown in his face no matter how much he tries not to think about it.

Worse yet is that he works the Saturday before Valentine’s Day with Nick. Ever since he was shot down by Cas, he’s really lived up to that _Lucifer_ nick name and made Dean’s shifts a living hell – at least where getting the coffee and Cas is concerned. Anytime either come up in any form of conversation, Nick doesn’t miss a beat about teasing him. Next week isn’t going to be any different, probably. Dean can already envision exactly how Nick is going to be an ass and ask how he’s going to be spending his day off with his _boyfriend_ , and Cas most certainly is _not_ his boyfriend – no matter how much hope Dean still hopes that things might turn around in that regard.

It’s really hard _not_ to think like that. Cas might have turned him down, but he was fine after that. But now he’s started being awkward these last few weeks. He was fine when they walked home during the LARPing night, and he seems normal when they’re texting each other. The difference is in how he acts when they’re together. When he can, Cas avoids touching, and he almost acts shy sometimes about looking him in the eye. He’s even awkward about hugs now, which is _really_ weird considering the big issues he made about liking them and still wanting them.

Dean has thought about all that long and hard and that really hopeful side of him wonders if it’s because Cas is slowly coming around to liking him and it’s awkward for him. Or, and this is the usually quiet but self-deprecating part of him talking, but maybe Cas is like this now because he’s figured out that Dean still totally has the hots for him and he’s just uncomfortable with it.

When the hell did things get so _difficult_ for him? Dean had no problem asking Lisa or Cassie out back in high school. Everything with Cas has been _way_ different and he’s not sure if it’s because this is the first time he’s liked a guy or not. Whatever it is, asking a good _friend_ over this weekend feels way more daunting than when he asked Cassie to be his girlfriend and go to the movies with him during junior year. And she was his first girlfriend _ever_. Not his first kiss, because that was Charlie, but definitely his first everything else.

Everything seemed so much easier in high school and Dean kinda wishes he was back in those days when he reaches the café. He takes a deep breath and shoves his gloves into his pockets. Through the glass of the door, he can see Cas sitting at his usual spot by the cash register. There are eight cranes lined up on the counter next to him and he’s focused on folding the ninth. His forehead is crumpled with concentration and it’s _really_ cute. Dean’s heart flutters a bit before he steels himself and heads inside. before he walks in.

The door hasn’t even shut behind him before Cas is greeting him. “Hello, Dean.”

“Dude, you didn’t even look up.” He scuffs his boots on the mat so he doesn’t trek too much wet gunk across the café.  “How’d you know it was me?”

“You came from the direction of the station.” Cas shrugs and glances up with a small smile before looking down at his crane again. “And I know the sound of your boots. Given what time it is, it wasn’t hard to deduce who it might be.”

Dean snorts and half his anxiety melts away under the sheer comfort that comes with talking to a good friend. “Okay, Sherlock. What were you going to do if you were wrong?”

Cas carefully folds the head of the crane out of one of the points. “It would have been a little embarrassing, but I think I would have survived.”

Satisfied that his boots are mostly clean, Dean crosses the café to check out the cranes Cas has made today. He looks up at the ones hanging from the ceiling, and there are just _so many_. They really fill up the whole space, and he should probably mention that they’re a bit of a fire hazard, especially hanging near the lights. Though it’s possible Gabriel has used his magic to prevent that somehow. He makes a mental note to ask about it the next time he sees him.

“So, how many of these guys do you have left before you reach one thousand?”

“One more after I’m done this one.” Cas holds up the one he’s about to finish. All he has left is one wing to fold down.

Holy shit. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He nods and folds down the other wing, carefully creasing the line. “These are the final ten. I’ll be making my wish for the last time when I do the next one.”

Goddamn, that’s _awesome_. “I’m impressed, Cas. That takes some serious dedication.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks over at the display case and the small selection for the night. “Do you want me to wait until you’re done the last one?”

“It’s alright.” Cas finishes up with the ninth crane and puts it in line with the rest of them. “Customers and friends come first.” He gives Dean another quick smile before standing up and moving over to the cash register. “Who else will be ordering tonight?”

“Bobby, Meg, and Raphael.” Dean counts it out on his fingers. “Oh, and Benny sends his regrets for not being able to order anything.”

Cas acknowledges the little joke with a soft laugh, but his eyes are unfocused while he stares off across the café. After a moment, he looks down and starts typing in the orders. When he’s done, he reads them out and Dean is, again, impressed. They’re all accurate. It took him _ages_ to eventually remember what everyone usually orders, and sometimes he still wants to write them down to be sure. Mostly because Nick likes to switch it up and make shit complicated just because he can. And here Cas is, all of them memorized like he’s a goddamn savant or something.

While Cas starts making the coffee, Dean starts fidgeting with his damn gloves again, this time in his pockets. “So, uh, do you have any plans for this weekend?” It’s not exactly a dumb question, but Dean already knows the answer. Cas _never_ has plans.

“No.” He glances at Dean over the top of the coffee maker, but doesn’t show any kind of nervousness or anything. Would he seem more awkward about it if they didn’t have the counter between them and there was the chance that Dean could hug him? “Did you want to do something?”

“You – uh – you wanna come over on Saturday?” Dean pulls out the cash he collected before he left the station because he should probably pay before Cas is done getting everything read. “For dinner.”

Cas takes some heat sleeves from a rack and turns around to work on the counter against the wall. “Will it just be dinner or are we doing anything else?”

That’s a very good question and Dean totally planned for it. “Well, yeah. We could watch a movie during, or after. Or play some games. I don’t have as many as you, but they’re good. Pretty much we can do whatever you want.”

Dean acts like he’s really busy with counting out the change to actually look at Cas, but he keeps stealing glances. It’s not his fault that he can’t help but wonder what Cas’s reaction is going to be. He only gets caught looking once, and that’s when Cas turns to put the tray of coffees on the counter. One of them has an origami dragon resting on top of it. Dean can’t stop his smile when he sees it. And then Dean’s attention is very much distracted because hold the fucking phone, is that a _blush_? He tries not to be obvious about staring, but he’s pretty sure that Cas is actually _blushing_.

“I think that sounds nice.” Cas counts the money off the counter and puts it away in the register. “Will your roommates be joining us?”

A good question, to be sure, and Dean actually has to think about that for a second. He quickly goes over their shift schedules in his head. “Well, Jo is supposed to be working, but I’m not sure if Charlie will be around or not. Is that okay?”

“Of course. She’s nice.” Cas closes the register and smiles at him again. “What time would you like me to come over?”

“Um –” Shit. Dean hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. “Maybe, like, around six or seven? Whatever’s good for you, I guess.” He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck under the edge of his hat.

Cas hums and sits back down on his stool, dragging over a new origami sheet. “How about I average for half past six? I’ll make sure to have a light breakfast when I wake up with the sunset. Likely around four o’clock, or so.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, because that sounds a little early to him. Then again, it is winter and that’s the usual sunset time. Not that he really pays much attention to that. “You get up that early, huh?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugs and starts folding the next crane. “I usually get up when the sun sets, unless I’ve had less than seven hours of sleep.”

“Oh wow. _Only_ a whole seven hours?” Dean snorts and pulls the coffee tray close.

“Not all of us like sleeping for twelve hours at a time, Dean.” Cas cracks another smile, wide and amused. “I like having a full day to do things.”

Well, that’s just a low blow. Dean staggers back with a hand on his chest, like he just took a physical blow. “Hey, now. I only do that when I finish work at eight in the morning and have no plans for the rest of the day. I don’t do it _all_ the time.”

“Yes, but you sleep until late in the evening, then you wake up for a few hours and go back to sleep.” He tilts his head and looks at Dean over the top of his glasses. “It’s a waste of a whole day. Why wouldn’t you want to make the most of your day?”

Dean literally has no answer to that and if it weren’t for the coffee tray in his hands, he’d throw them up in defeat. All he can do now is stick his tongue out at Cas and give him a fake glare. It does literally nothing because Cas is looking at his origami again, proceeding with folding his crane. Instead of saying goodbye and walking away like he probably should right now, Dean stays where he is and watches how Cas’s hands work over the paper, fingers quick and nimble. God, he’s got such _nice_ hands.

This is the one thousandth crane and it feels like a very important moment. “Can I stay and watch?” The question is out before Dean even realizes he asked it.

Cas doesn’t lift his head, but he does look up over the top of his glasses again. “If you’d like.”

When he looks back down again, Dean is almost _certain_ that a blush is starting to fill his cheeks. Holy shit, it is _really_ cute when Cas blushes and he’s trying really hard not to swoon at it. And also, like, why the _hell_ is he blushing? What’s the reason for it? This is fucked up. _Dean_ is fucked up. He legit got turned down and he’s supposed to be getting over his crush and moving on, but here he fucking is. There’s no way he’s ever going to move on when he spends every weekend hanging out with Cas and he seems him multiple times a week. And now here’s Cas, acting like this and making hard for Dean to tell if he’s actually got a chance or not.

Dean tries hard not to think about that and instead focuses on the way Cas folds the origami. He seems so sure of himself with every fold, creasing the paper in quick motions. Cas is definitely way better at this than Dean ever was when he folded his own cranes. Actually, he hasn’t done one of those in a long time – not since the one he gave to Cas. After the bat on the LARP weekend, he’s given Cas a spaceship, a fox, and a turtle. Tomorrow Dean is going to fold him a butterfly. Hopefully he’ll like that. He’s liked all the others, and been really impressed with everything else.

Cas is totally focused while he finishes the last crane. When he’s finished folding down the wings, he holds it in both hands and sits back. He glances up at Dean and then closes his eyes. For a second, Dean’s confused, and then he realizes that Cas is probably making his final wish.

After a few moments, Cas breathes out a long, slow sigh and puts the crane down in line with the others. “There we go.”

“Do you think your wish will come true?” Dean can’t get his voice much louder than a whisper. This feels like a really profound moment and he shouldn’t be disturbing it by being loud.

The look Cas turns on him is intense and calculating. It makes Dean feel stupidly warm in his coat and he has the intense urge to look away from those too blue eyes and the air of inhuman they give. Eventually, Cas looks away again, this time to pick up a needle and thread. He shrugs and clears his throat. “I certainly hope so.”

“What did you wish for?”

He shakes his head and gives Dean a wry smile bracketed with another rising blush. “You know the rules about wishes. I can’t say what it is or it won’t come true.”

Good point. Dean should know better than that. They literally went over that the night they celebrated his birthday. “Will you tell me what it is if the wish comes true?”

After another pause and another quick glance up at him, Cas’s smile softens. “Perhaps.”

Hopefully that happens. Dean’s a bit curious, but he’ll totally understand if he doesn’t. But he’s more or less overstayed his break time here. “Well, as much as I’d like to stay and chat, I’ve gotta head back.” He starts backing up towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I look forward to it.” Cas lifts a hand in a wave before he starts trying to thread the needle.

Dean’s wave comes over his shoulder as he pivots. There’s a bounce in his step and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it as he heads out into the chill winter night. He’s getting a totally platonic and only romantic in nature dinner date with Cas tomorrow, and that’s going to be fucking awesome. Dean is going to have to make sure that there’s nothing _actually_ romantic about anything tomorrow night. It’s just going to be dinner at his place. Alone. With _Cas_. While he’s in some kind of weird phase that Dean is simultaneous excited about and utterly terrified of.

Great. Now he’s feeling stupidly nervous again.

_** ** _

It’s absolutely ridiculous that Castiel’s hands are actually _shaking_ , though only slightly, while he sews the cranes together. His face feels far hotter than necessary and there’s a lump risen in his throat that he’s certain is his heart’s new home. The damn thing has gone and relocated without his permission and it’s only a matter of time before he dies because of it. When Gabriel finds his body in the morning, he had better have Castiel’s cause of death listed as _Death by Dean Winchester_.

Since their opening night in September of last year, every crane that he’s folded has been made with one wish in mind. It is and always has been that he would be allowed to live a happy life here in Montpelier without ever having to worry about Witches again. That’s all Castiel has ever wanted ever since Gabriel bought the building and started renovating. The café was _his_ dream in the first place and Castiel went along with it because he wanted his brother to be happy. As long as he gets to live a quiet life doing his own thing, he’s happy too.

The sad fact is, Castiel really doesn’t have many dreams of his own beyond a quiet, happy life. All he wants is to not go to bed every morning wondering if this would be the day that the Witches would find him. He wants _peace_. That’s what his wish has always been; a wish for a peaceful life in Montpelier. From the first night he started folding the cranes in September to tonight, Castiel has only had one wish – except for that last crane.

He hesitates when he reaches for it, ready to sew it onto the rest of the line. That lump in his throat grows ever tighter and he swallows around it. If Dean hadn’t been here, maybe his wish would have remained the same as it had been from the beginning. But of course he had to be right here. He had to be standing right in front of him at just the right moment for this ridiculousness to happen. If he hadn’t been here, Castiel might never have included Dean in his final wish.

Whether he meant to do it or not, when he made the wish on the last crane he included _Dean_ in it this time. Why in the world would he wish that he could live in peace _with_ Dean? Castiel has feelings for him, but in no way is he ever going to follow up on that. His line is going to end with him, and he is fully prepared to live the rest of his life alone. No one is going to suffer like his mother and father did. No one is going to live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder like he does because of him.

This stupid wish has just gone and confused him now. Castiel groans and hides his face in his hands. It isn’t _fair_. He likes basically almost everything about Dean, and especially the time that they spend together. Castiel wouldn’t change a thing about it. If there was anything that he would change, though he knows that he can’t, it would be that he could be Human.

Being Human would mean that he wouldn’t have to worry about the Witches hunting and killing him for the ingredients they could get from his body. If he were Human right now, Castiel could already be dating Dean. Instead of leaving with a wave, Dean could have kissed him goodbye. Or, instead of going home after his shift in the morning, he could have just come here so they could snuggle together until they fell asleep. They could leave the window open and Castiel could actually enjoy the heat of the sun while they slept.

A million origami cranes couldn’t make a wish like _that h_ appen.

With a sigh, Castiel shakes his head and stands. Wishful thinking like that always makes him feel stupid and more embarrassed than necessary. A relationship with Dean is not in the cards for him. Besides, what are the chances that Dean even still likes him like that anymore? It’s been more than a month since his confession. He could have easily moved on by now and found someone else who could actually _openly_ reciprocate his feelings in kind.

At the very least, Castiel _hopes_ he has moved on. He rejected Dean already and he won’t go back on his word, regardless of his feelings. There’s too much risk involved in dating him. He doesn’t know the details surrounding his mother’s death, he knows the dark coven that killed her while she was protecting his father as he took _the sleep_. It would be a constant threat dangling over Dean’s head. He could never put him in that kind of danger and it makes his stomach turn to even dare to think about it.

Currently, Gabriel is the only when in danger when Castiel takes _the sleep_. Even that makes him uncomfortable, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Gabriel won’t let him move out on his own, not that he really wants to. Besides that, with the skills he’s developed over the years, Gabriel is the most competent at protecting him and the only one he truly trusts. Though there is a voice that wants to add Dean’s name to that list.

Grumbling to himself, he shakes his head again to knock that voice out of his mind along with the rest of his thoughts. He focuses on hunting a location on the ceiling where he can hang his cranes. There’s very little space left on the ceiling with over one hundred strings of five to ten cranes hanging together. Once he finds a space where his final strand can fit, he drags a step ladder over to it. Hanging them is a quick process and he admires his months of hard work once he’s stepped down again.

“I wish knowing what to do was as easy as folding you.” He scans the cranes with a sigh, his gaze lingering on the last one.

Sadly, he knows what he needs to do. Castiel needs to do _nothing_. Eventually any feelings he has for Dean, or vice versa, are going to wane. When that happens, they can go back to being just good friends. It will just be hard in the beginning, particularly because Castiel has never had to struggle with emotions like this before. He had better get a hold of himself soon, or Dean will start to pick up on it.

Castiel is more than aware that he’s been a little _off_ with him since his revelation a few weeks ago, and he really shouldn’t be. But he’s just so mortified with himself. He masturbated while thinking of Dean, and ever since then he’s had a measure of trouble looking him in the eyes. On the bright side, at least he’s more than positive that he’ll be able to keep himself from doing it again.

Hopefully he’ll be able to act normally tomorrow. He would hate for things to be anymore awkward than they already are.

**_Saturday – February 6 th, 2016_ **

The snow is falling rather heavily for a Montpelier February evening. It’s fluffy, thick, and exactly the kind of snow that Castiel loves walking in. Unfortunately, Gabriel had other ideas. He was very insistent that Castiel not walk in it, purely for the reason that he _might_ get hit by a car. And that is how he finds himself staring out the passenger window of their car, watching the buildings slide by excruciatingly slow. When there’s snow on the ground, Gabriel drives slower than even the slowest of the elderly.

And that’s not the worst of it. The worst is that Gabriel _doesn’t stop talking_. “If you’re coming home before ten o’clock, you call me to get you, okay?” He hunches forward and squints at the headlights cutting through the snow as they cross the bridge. “Otherwise make him drive you. _Especially_ if it’s still snowing like this.”

Castiel sighs and props his cheek against his fist, elbow on the door. “Yes, Gabriel.” This isn’t a very long drive, but annoying is as annoying does. It’s only going to get worse from here. He should have just left while Gabriel was still in the bathroom.

“And if he tries to put the moves on you, make sure he wears a condom.” He pauses and it’s a heady one where Castiel very much contemplates the pros and cons of punching the driver. “Or, you know, you wear the condom. I’m not gonna pretend I know which of you is gonna be the pitcher or catcher. Either way, I put some condoms in your coat pocket in case he tries to pull that whole bullshit trick about not having any.”

Dear God, strike him down where he sits. At this point, he would _prefer_ that they turn around and drive the car off the bridge. It would be better than having to listen to this. Gabriel is _very_ lucky that Castiel won’t actually hit the driver while the car is in motion. He’ll just have to make a mental note to give him a good smack once they reach Dean’s house.

Regrettably, his silence is seen as permission to continue. “Can you ask him something for me? I wanna know why in the heck he’s doing this dinner and a movie date a week early?” Gabriel throws him a quickly glance with a teasing grin before looking back at the road. “You guys do know that Valentine’s Day is _next week_.”

Castiel has to physically hold himself back from groaning, but he does curl one hand into a fist on his thigh. “It is _not_ a date. We’re just hanging out like we always do.”

Gabriel scoffs. “But Valentine’s –”

“Has _no_ effect on anything.” He is not having this. Castiel already had to deal with the teasing looks and suggestive eyebrow wiggles since yesterday and he will not suffer it another moment longer. “February fourteenth is just another day of the year, and it has no bearing on my friendship with Dean.”

“C’mon, Cassie.” Again, Gabriel takes his hand from the wheel, this time to nudge him. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to have yourself a very merry Valentine’s Day with the boy – a _firefighter_ , no less – of your dreams when you’re _so_ head over –”

A growl rumbles low in Castiel’s chest and the dark interior of the car brightens a bit from the intensity of his eyes. “One more word out of you and I’m going to make you drive into the nearest tree.”

“Aw, don’t be such a spoil sport.”

His pout is ineffective, falling on a stone heart. Castiel bares his sharp canines with another growl. “How many times do I need to ask you _not_ to talk about this? You are well aware of how unhappy I am about this whole situation.”

Ever since his revelation regarding his feelings for Dean, a physical ache fills Castiel’s chest whenever he thinks of him. It’s a sensation he could most definitely live without. And of course the damn vice around his heart only grows tighter whenever Gabriel starts talking about he and Dean could be – or _should_ be – dating. It fills his stomach with a queasy and uncomfortable weight, and he hates it. He hates everything about what comes with having feelings for someone.

Silence settles heavy in the car. Gabriel glances at him with a frown, likely gauging just how serious the situation is. After a few minutes, he reaches over to pat him on the knee. “I’m sorry, Castiel. I’ll stop.”

If only he could believe him. “We both know that you won’t.” Castiel sighs and the anger starts to seep out of him. He slumps against the window again, mentally counting the corners needed before they get to Dean’s house.

“Well, It’s hard not to be a big brother about this.” Gabriel tightens his grip on the steering wheel enough to make it creak under his palms. “My kid brother has his first crush and all my instincts are telling me to tease the ever loving _shit_ out of you for it. But, I get it. I’ll still try and lay off a bit.”

“I would appreciate it.”

Gabriel drops the old topic and picks up a new one without another thought. “So, what movie are you guys watching tonight?”

“I have no idea.” Castiel leans back in his seat with a shrug. “I think he’s planning on taking me through his entire movie collection over the next year.”

“How many movies does his have?”

“Too many.” Though, to be fair, having more than ten DVDs is too many in Castiel’s opinion.

Gabriel snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Has he never heard of Netflix?”

“Yes, and he has it, but he stills buys DVDs.” It and impulse that Castiel doesn’t understand. Granted, he leans more towards the minimalist lifestyle than anyone he knows. Even more so than his own brother.

They turn off the main road onto Dean’s street and immediately the snow drifts get deeper. If there were any wheel tracks made before they arrived, they’ve long been filled. Gabriel leans closer to the wheel, but it doesn’t stop his mouth.

“What about –”

The questioning needs to stop. It’s putting Castiel in a foul mood and he doesn’t want to be bad company when he finally gets to Dean’s house. There’s only one option left to him right now, and it’s to turn the tables on his brother. There are so few buttons that he can push that will irritate Gabriel enough to shut him up or make him forget about whatever conversation they’re having. It’s always amusing when he manages to succeed with it.

“So, what are _your_ plans for Valentine’s Day?” It’s not exactly the nicest thing to do, but Castiel does get a vindictive glee from it.

Gabriel makes a choked noise and he taps the brakes sharply, causing the car to jerk slightly and skid a bit in the snow. He doesn’t actually stop and continues to roll down the road, though he does shoot Castiel a dark glare. “How _dare_ you!”

Oh, yes. This _definitely_ felt good. Castiel settles back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile and not an ounce of innocence in it. “You brought it up first.”

The car crawls to a stop and Gabriel throws the gear shift into park. He whips his hand out, nearly knocking Castiel in the nose as he points at the passenger door. “Get out of my car. You’re walking the rest of the way.”

“You’re really going to make me walk a whole _twenty feet_?” Castiel rolls his eyes with a laugh. He points out the front window where they’ve stopped just short of the end of Dean’s driveway. “You’re so _cruel_.”

Gabriel crosses his arms and maintains his stony silence, his glare just as icy. He probably shouldn’t, but Castiel can’t help laughing again. “If you’re going to pout like that, I’d just like to point out that Dean is going to _love_ to hear about how you can dish it out but you can’t take it.”

“You think you’re _so_ funny.” Gabriel makes a face as he sneers. “Just get out and go have your date.”

“I could have just driven myself, you know.” Castiel unbuckles himself and opens the door, letting in a gust of wind and snow. “You didn’t _have_ to come.”

With an insulted huff, Gabriel looks away. “For your information, I have grocery shopping of my own to do. Speaking of, if you want anything, you had better text it to me.” He pauses and leans over to glare at Castiel from under the roof of the car once he gets out. “And we’ll see if I feel like getting it for you.”

“What about getting something for Nike?” Castiel flips up the collar of his coat to help keep snow from going down his back. “She needs another bag of dry food and about a dozen cans of wet.”

“Fine. But only because she’s basically my cat too.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and reaches out to try and close the door. His hand falls several inches short of the door handle. “Now close the damn door. You’re letting the damn cold in.”

Rather than closing the door, Castiel leans forward enough so he can give Gabriel a smile. His animosity has melted in light of being nice to Nike. “You should tell her that some time. She’d like it.”

“Dear God, don’t you _ever_ tell her.” He sits back in his seat and shakes his head. “She sleeps on enough of my stuff already. I don’t need the cuddles she’d give me if she knew that I actually liked her.”

Castiel shuts the door with a laugh. He slogs his way from the road through the snowbank and onto the sidewalk. It’s snowed over too, but not as badly as the roads. From what he can tell, someone has been by within the last hour with a snow-blower to keep it clear. Whoever it was, they are a God among people. The people in Dean’s neighbourhood are very nice if they clear the sidewalks of their own accord. If he knew who it was, he would thank them.

Gabriel uses someone’s driveway to turn around and they wave at each other as he drives by. The short walk to Dean’s front door keeps his back to the snow. Castiel doesn’t mind the cold and he hardly notices it in the beginning, but he keeps his shoulders hunched against it anyways. It helps to blend in with the rest of the crowd. A Creature stands out more if they act unaffected by winter; like how Charlie and Nick have walked into the café some nights in the t-shirts they wear under their gear.

It looks like Dean’s porch has been recently shoveled and Castiel stomps on the frosted welcome mat to knock the snow from his boots. He has express permission from Dean, received by text message earlier this evening, stating that he can just walk into the house when he gets here. Apparently Dean is going to be busy in the kitchen with their dinner. Castiel’s stomach twists in an excited spiral. He’s never been close enough with _anyone_ to be allowed to just walk right into their home without at least ringing the doorbell or knocking.

Despite that, he still knocks on the door as he’s opening it. “Hello?”

“Cas!” Dean waves at him from the kitchen, a set of tongs in hand. “Take off the outdoor shit and come join me. You want something to drink?”

Every time Castiel has come over, one of the first things Dean offers is something to drink or eat. He’s such a gracious host. “Not right now, thank you.”

He takes off his boots and makes sure that they’re on the mat so any melting snow won’t make puddles on the tiled floor. There’s a coat rack mounted on the wall next to the door and that’s where Castiel hangs his coat. With his body blocking the view from the kitchen, he checks his pockets to confirm whether or not Gabriel actually put condoms in there. Sure enough, there’s a string of six folded up together. He is going to have to have some serious words with his brother when he gets home, because this is _not_ an okay joke to make.

Castiel shoves them as deep into his pocket as they can go and heads to the kitchen. Immediately, he has to clap a hand over his mouth and nose, attempting and failing to muffle a snort of laughter. He hadn’t looked close enough when he walked in, but now he can clearly see that Dean is wearing a frilly pink apron that is _much_ too small for him.

Dean points his tongs at him. “Shut your face.”

“I said nothing.” Castiel holds both of his hands up in innocence as he slides onto one of the stools on the other side of the kitchen island.

The colour of Dean’s cheeks starts to match his apron and he gestures at it with a vague sweep of his free hand. “This isn’t mine, okay? Charlie got it from an ex of hers and it’s the only one we have. I needed it so I don’t get splattered by bacon, so you’d better shut up.”

Bacon? For supper? Castiel tilts his head and glances at the pan and its sizzling contents on the stove. “Are we having breakfast for dinner? If so, I take my eggs sunny side up, please.”

“I always took you as an omelette kinda guy.” Dean shakes his head and turns around, using the tongs to flip his bacon. “But this delicious meat is getting chopped and crumbled into the soup when I’m done.”

Soup does sound delicious, and that’s likely what the slow cooker on the counter is for. He eyes it up with some interest. “What kind of soup are we having, if I’m allowed to ask?”

Though he has a particularly keen sense of smell, it’s hard to tell what the soup could be and especially because of the scent of the bacon. There’s also the scent of fresh baked buns in the air and it’s making Castiel’s mouth water.

“We’re having potato bacon soup. Nothing fancy, but it’s been in the slow cooker for hours and it’s gonna be fucking _awesome_.” Dean flashes him a smile over his shoulder. “I hope you’ll like it.”

“It sounds _and_ smells delicious.” That sends Castiel’s insides all a flutter and he distracts himself by picking up the cheese grater sitting on the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

If anything, that makes Dean’s smile grow brighter and Castiel most certainly can’t look at it anymore. “How nice of you to offer, Cas. You can take care of that cheese there.” He flaps a hand over his shoulder, pointing out the unopened block of cheese resting on a plate next to where the grater had been. “Get shredding, buddy. If you’re thirsty, you can pick your poison from the fridge. I’d serve you, but I have grease hands right now.” To accentuate his comment, he turns and wiggles his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it. Thank you. ” Castiel waves him off with a laugh, ignoring the tingle that chases through his chest. He goes around the island to wash his hands quickly, trying not to bump into Dean while he deals with the bacon.

As Castiel settles down on the school again to start grating, Dean turns around with a plateful of bacon all wrapped in paper towel. “Don’t worry about the lack of veggies.” He tilts his head toward the fridge. “Which is why I got one of those little veggie tray bullshit things in there for you rabbits. I fully expect you to eat it all.”

“Such a pity.” Castiel drowns out the extra loud pounding of his heart with sarcasm. “I was all prepared to lecture you about the food pyramid and the benefits of a well-balanced meal.”

That earns him a laugh that makes Castiel fumble with the cheese, nearly shredding one of his fingers instead. He’s starting to feel a little warmer under his sweater than necessary and he can hear his heartbeat all too loudly in his ears. His mind scrambles for something to say or do in response, but all he can manage is a shaky chuckle of his own.

Thankfully, a distraction comes only moments later in the form of Charlie. She tromps into the kitchen with a basket of clothing under one arm. “Okay, so I’m going to do my laun- Oh!” Charlie stops briefly when she sees him, but starts moving again. “Hey, Cas. How’s it hanging?”

“I’m well, thank you.” He breathes a quiet sigh of relief as he smiles at her. “I wasn’t aware that you were going to be home.”

Her own smile twitches downward into a frown. “My plans fell through.” She sighs with a shrug and brightens up again. “But I promise I’m not going to interrupt your buddy time. As soon as I’m done my chores assigned by the slave master, I’m going to go back to leveling up my new warrior.”

Dean looks up sharply from where he’s chopping up the bacon on a cutting board. “You made _another_ character? How many is that now?”

“My goal is one of each, all at maxed levels. You know that.” Charlie sticks her tongue out at him and walks past them into the laundry room.

Her attitude is about par for the course from what Castiel has seen. Dean rolls his eyes at Charlie and fixes Castiel with the kind of look that just screams _‘what are you going to do?’_. All Castiel can do is shrug and try to give him the same kind of look back.

He lifts up the grater to check the pile of cheese underneath. “Is this enough?”

“Yeah, that should do it.” Dean gives him a thumbs up with his knife in hand. “We can grate more if we need it. And, trust me on this, you can never have too much cheese in this soup.”

Castiel has his doubts about that, but the last thing he wants to do right now is argue about the correct amount of cheese necessary. He cleans the grater of cheese on the inside and places the plate aside. “Would you like me to prepare the vegetables now?”

“Sure, if you want to.” With a shrug, Dean leans his head towards the fridge. “But there’s not much prep needed. Just open the container and pop the top on the ranch tub in the center of it.”

“It sounds like a difficult task, but I think I’m up to it.” He could have just acknowledged the directions, but Castiel likes how his small jokes make Dean laugh.

As he gets the vegetable tray from the fridge, he gets a chance to admire the white-board chore chart taking up the majority of the door. It’s ringed with several pictures and the various alphabet magnets keeping it all on the door. In Castiel’s opinion, the chore chart is very functional and has been put  together rather well. It almost reminds him of the checklist they have at the café. He’s honestly surprised that he didn’t notice this during the New Year’s Eve party while he was being shown the kitchen. Castiel hasn’t spent any time in the kitchen during any of his previous visits.

The chore chart itself is a long list of chores divided into what needs to be done daily, weekly, and monthly. Alongside each chore is written their names and the day it should be done on. Their names are written in three different colours and there is a magnetic basket on the side of the fridge with four markers and an eraser resting in it. If there’s one thing he had to pick to really admire about Dean, it’s that he is _very_ organized and so very neat with everything that he does.

“Are you really that much of a slave master?” Castiel can’t resist asking as he pulls the plastic lid off the vegetable tray.

Dean’s nose wrinkles and he shakes his head with a sigh. “I _guess_. I’m only tough on them because someone has to or they don’t do it. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna live in a pig sty because a couple of dicks don’t know the basic decency of picking up after themselves.”

“I _can_ hear you, y’know!” Charlie calls from the laundry room, accompanying it with the bang of the washing machine lid being closed. It starts up moments later and she walks back into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “Things wouldn’t become a pig sty even if you let up every so often, you jerk.”

With a derisive snort, Dean shakes his head at her. “Don’t even try that argument. We both know that this would be a disaster zone within hours if I left you and Jo to do what you wanted.”

“God, you’re such a neat freak!” She shuts the door to the laundry room. Instead of seeming annoyed or even angry, Charlie _laughs_. She slaps Dean on the shoulder before getting herself something to drink from the fridge and turns her attention to Castiel. “You saw his room at the big party, right? He didn’t clean it on the off chance that someone was going to see it. No, no. It’s like that _all the time_. I swear that he’s got to be allergic to messes.”

“Hey!” Dean slaps his hand down on the counter and points at her with his knife. “No trash talking me when I’m hosting friends. You know the rules.”

Charlie ducks around the island with a giggle, pausing only to jostle Castiel’s elbow with her own. “If I had a nickel for every time that he’s told me to wash my dishes or put them in the dishwasher, I’d be a millionaire.  No word of a lie.”

“That would require –” Castiel pauses to do the math quickly. “Twenty million nickels. That’s quite a lot of times to have left your dirty dishes in the sink.” He looks up from opening the ranch dip to find both Dean and Charlie staring at him, their mouths hanging open. He shrugs and uses a carrot stick to scrape the ranch from the lid of the container. “I’m good with numbers.”

Dean and Charlie share a look before he starts laughing. He shakes his head and sweeps his chopped bacon into a bowl. “It sure feels like I’ve told her to clean up after herself that many times. Seriously, Cas, she _never_ does it. Jo too.”

Charlie huffs loudly and gestures at the sink with her drink in hand. “Why put them in the dishwasher when we’re just going to use them again later? It’s just a waste to use a new dish!”

That earns her a glare as Dean turns to rinse his cutting board and his knife. “That’s _disgusting_. Who knows what could grow on it by then!” He runs a cloth over both, washing them quickly in the side of the sink that already has soapy water in it. “Just rinse it and put it in the dishwasher or hand wash it and put it back in the cupboard. It’s not that hard.”

“Do you see what I’m talking about?” Charlie looks to Castiel while pointing at Dean. “Look what I have to put up with all the time!” She adopts a wounded expression before breaking down laughing.

 “Holy shit, will you just shut up already?” Dean dries his hands on the too-small apron and starts to come around the edge of the island, sending Charlie skittering out of the kitchen towards the stairs. “Yeah, that’s right. You go to your _room_ , young lady!”

Charlie grabs the edge of the banister with one hand and leans to the side, letting it support her weight as she sticks her tongue out at Dean. “Keep treating me like that and you’re going to lose the best wingman you ever had, Winchester. I’m going to let the guys know that I’ll be back soon and then I’ll come get  my supper.”

With one last wave at Castiel, she disappears up the staircase. Dean makes a frustrated noise, but he’s smiling as he returns to setting out the last of what they need for supper. “She’s a pain in my ass, but she grows on you. At least she’s better than Jo.”

Castiel is in awe by how easily the two of them converse. Though they were bickering, it was all playful and they seemed more like siblings than friends. From his understanding, they’ve been best friends for ages. Does that mean that Castiel has to wait that long before he and Dean will be that comfortable around each other? Granted, their feelings for each other might make that a little more difficult. In his case, it just makes things feel more awkward than they should be.

“How is Jo worse than Charlie?” He is honestly interested in learning the difference. They seem to get along well enough together whenever he sees them.

Dean lifts the lid of the slow cooker to give its contents a stir. “Most of Charlie’s mess stays in her bedroom.” He turns the heat setting to warm and adds some freshly cracked black pepper to the soup. “But Jo leaves it fucking _everywhere_. I feel like her mother when I have to put her shoes on the mat, or hang up her coat for her, or clean up the damn clothes she leaves on the bathroom floor after she takes a shower. We _share_ that bathroom, Cas!”

Oh, dear. The more Dean talks about it, the more frustrated he seems to get and it is absolutely _adorable_. A smile spreads slowly across his lips and Castiel doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “They’re very lucky to have such a nice roommate like you.”

“Stop it, Cas.” Dean laughs and covers his face with one hand; flapping the other at him limply. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

He drops his hands with a laugh and reaches behind his back to undo the apron. He hangs it on the hooks on the door to the laundry room. “Hey, what’s it like at your place? It’s always clean whenever I’m there. Do you clean it just for me or is it always like that?”

Castiel rests his cheek on one fists and snaps a carrot stick between his teeth. “Well, we’ve been living alone together for over ten years now. We long since figured out our roles when it comes to cleaning.” He pops the second half of the carrot stick into his mouth and shrugs. “Gabriel and I both like to have a tidy shared space, and I’m sure you noticed that we don’t own very many things in the first place.”

“Yeah, kinda hard not to.” Dean pulls another three bowls out of one of the cupboards and starts to fill them with soup. He places them in a line in front of the bacon and the cheese. “I know you’re not big on talking about your past or anything, but –” As he adds a bit of both to each bowl, he throws furtive glances at Castiel, as if he’s worried that he’ll be denied his question. “Can I ask where you guys lived before you moved here?”

Now that is a _very_ loaded question and it definitely gives Castiel reason to pause. He stares down at his bowl as Dean places it and a spoon in front of him and takes a seat on the stool next to him. His thoughts are racing; tripping over each other to try and figure out what harm could come from saying anything about his past. If he mentioned Florida or talked about his hometown, would Dean be able to do anything with that information?

Surprisingly, his hand is rather steady as he picks up the spoon and gives his soup a stir. Castiel eats a few spoonfuls and savours the subtle flavours of the soup before he comes to an answer. “I – we lived in Florida for a long time.” He spares a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, checking to see how Dean is processing the information.

If anything, Dean simply looks intrigued. “That must’ve been annoying for you. It’s pretty sunny down there, isn’t it? I figured with your whole deal with the sun, you’d wanna live further north. Maybe in Alaska or something.”

Honestly, that would have been nice. It would have been preferred, in fact. But that’s the first place Witches would go to look for his kind, and that’s why his family chose not to live there. It’s also the reason the FBI placed them in Florida. Some place with so much sun would be the last place one would think to look for him.

Of course, that’s not the answer Castiel can give him. He can only give partial truths. Gabriel would kill him if he ever gave anyone the full truth. As he says, the only person he should ever trust with the full details of their pasts should be someone he marries – someone one he would literally trust with his very life. While he does trust Dean to an extent, Castiel doesn’t trust him enough to say that they lived for ten years in Florida under witness protection.

“That’s where Gabriel wanted to go to school.” Castiel shrugs and focuses on his soup again. “When our parents were still alive, we –” The words are teetering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. This is the part that he’s _really_ not sure if he should mention, but he wants to. If there’s anyone he was ever to tell even just the littlest most unimportant things about his past, it would be Dean. “My family used to live in Ohio.”

Dean chews thoughtfully on a carrot before turning to him again. “Where in Ohio?”

He should have known that he would be pressed for details. But is the city too much? What could Dean possibly do with that kind of information? He doesn’t have Castiel’s real name, and the FBI did their best to erase any pictures or information about him and his family from all public and private reports regarding his parents deaths. Gabriel did an online search once while they were still living in Florida, after notifying their handlers, and he couldn’t find a single article referencing their deaths. And that’s not to mention that he doesn’t believe Dean would even go the lengths of trying to look him up.

Castiel is still thinking it over when Charlie comes back downstairs to get her supper. She takes her time with adding more cheese and bacon to the bowl and loading up a small plate with vegetables. He watches her for a distraction. Really, he probably shouldn’t say anything more, but why not? If he can tell Dean this little bit of information about him, then maybe one day he can work up to telling him what he is. If Castiel tells him that, then they could go out and he would have to carry around the stupid little ache in his chest whenever he looks at Dean. He’s become far too painfully aware of it since he realized his feelings and it’s grown very annoying.

Then again, telling Dean what he is wouldn’t change the risks associated to being with him. As long as that dark coven of Witches is still out there, they could be hunting for him like they did his parents. It’s just a matter of time before they catch up to him and Castiel doesn’t want Dean, or anyone else, to fall to the same fate as his mother. Not for him. Unfortunately, that depressing thought does nothing to quell the desire to share parts of himself with Dean.

“Canton.” Castiel blurts the answer to his question before it fully settles that he’s also sharing this piece of his past with Charlie.

As soon as the name is out of his mouth, Charlie freezes with the pepper grinder poised over her bowl of soup. “Wait, what?”

A vice pinches around his ribs and Castiel instantly regrets saying anything. He quickly glances between her and Dean, both surprised and worried to see that he bears the same expression as she does. Castiel swallows thickly, his appetite ebbing suddenly. Why do they look like that? What do they know that he doesn’t? “Canton, Ohio. Is – is there something important about that?”

Without warning, Dean bursts out laughing. He tilts his head back and starts with the most unexpected of things. He starts _singing_. “Cas! The man they call _Cas_!”

“What – _what_ are you doing?”

Charlie starts clapping her hands and stomping a foot. As if this moment couldn’t get weirder, she starts singing along too. “He robbed from the rich and he gave to the poor. Stood up to the man and he gave him what for.”

Castiel can only watch with an open mouth as Dean raises his voice to sing over Charlie. “Our love for him now ain’t hard to explain! The hero of Canton, the man they ca-a-a-all _Cas_!”

“I have no idea what’s going on.” He looks between the both of them, unsure if he should continue with his soup or run for his life. “Please explain. Now.”

Dean wipes at an eye as if he’s crying. Though, to be fair, he _is_ laughing rather hard. “The song is actually about a man they call Jayne.”

“And obviously he’s the hero of Canton, Cas.” Charlie sighs loudly and finishes adding pepper to her soup with a flourish. “C’mon now. Keep up.” A frown creases Castiel’s forehead and she shakes her head at him with a laugh. “It’s from a show called _Firefly_. If you haven’t seen it, then you absolutely need to. You can’t get better than a space western starring _Nathan Fillion_.”

“I don’t know who that –”

A spoon enters his field of vision and Castiel leans to the side to avoid it as Dean gestures at him wildly. “That’s it!” He stands up sharply and picks up his bowl. “C’mon, Cas. I know what we’re watching tonight! We’re going to binge as much of Firefly as we can before I gotta take you home.”

“I would like it to be known that you two are _very_ confusing.” Castiel rolls his eyes at the both of them despite standing to follow Dean’s lead. There’s no point in trying to have anything that just happened explained to him. The only way he’ll understand the impossible-ness that is the two of them is to follow Dean to the living room and see what this whole _Firefly_ and _Nathan Fillion_ thing is all about.

Charlie puts a hand to her chest with a wistful sigh. “Ah, I’m so envious of the both of you.”

Dean pauses while putting his bowl down on the coffee table. He turns to look at Castiel, crooking his eyebrow without actually voicing the question being asked. If there’s one thing to be said, Castiel is rather please that their friendship has evolved enough that he knows exactly what Dean is asking. He honestly doesn’t mind if Charlie joins them to watch TV. If anything, that might be helpful at keeping his own personal _emotional_ problems at bay.

Castiel turns and gestures at Charlie to follow him. “Why don’t you join us?”

Her eyes go wide and they almost seem to shimmer with excitement. “Really? You don’t mind me intruding on your date?”

That single word is like a knife to the chest. Castiel forces himself not to react to it, unlike Dean. A dark frown crosses his face and the glare he turns on Charlie is almost a palpable force. He can see that the invitation is about to be rescinded, but Charlie diverts it quickly.

She puts her hands up, her voice forcibly innocent. “I’m joking. I’m joking!”

“No, we take back our invite.” Dean turns from her with a huff and stalks across the living room to start rifling through his boxes of DVDs. “You’re not allowed to join us.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel is honestly surprised that his voice doesn’t crack. He even manages to give them both what he hopes is an easy smile. “The more the merrier.”

And, frankly speaking, if he’s not alone with Dean, then he won’t be too focused on him. It’s like Dean is a magnet and Castiel finds himself drawn to him at times. That allure is getting harder and harder to resist and he’s starting to get afraid. If he’s alone with Dean for too long, it’s very possible that Castiel might crack. He might act on his emotions and there is _no way_ that should be allowed to happen.

 _Ever_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Saturday – February 6 th, 2016_ **

It’s official. Dean is going to kill his best friend. After he takes Cas home later, he’s going to come right back and fucking _smother_ Charlie with her own pillow. He was cool with her sticking around for Firefly because it’s one of her top three favourite shows of all time, but you wouldn’t know it from what’s happening now. For starters, she’s talking _over_ Firefly. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she’s now started grilling Cas with the kinds of questions that are, in Dean’s opinion, _really_ inappropriate.

Charlie is curled up on the easy chair. The chair is angled more towards the TV than the couch, but she’s twisted around on it to face the couch so she can talk to them. “So, Cas, do you have any _special_ plans for next Sunday?”

They’re sitting at opposite ends of the couch, but Cas is sitting on the end closest to Charlie. He doesn’t really take his eyes off the screen when he answers her. “Should I?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” She gasps and lays a hand on her chest, like she’s honestly surprised by this information. “Everyone and their mother has plans on _Valentine’s Day_.” The smile she flashes Dean a smile and the wiggle of her eyebrows is just punctuation and he _hates_ it.

Cas waits for the dialogue on the show to break for a moment before he glances at Charlie. “Do _you_ have plans for Valentine’s day?”

“Sure do.” Charlie puffs out her chest and lifts her head a little higher, clearly pleased with herself. “I’ve got me a hot date.”

Oh, puh- _leeze_. This is the first Dean’s heard of it and he rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Since my date tonight cancelled on me and she decided she wants to make it up to me next weekend.” Charlie’s eyebrows are practically dancing on her forehead and Dean is so very tempted to pluck them off with the dullest set of tweezers they have. “So you better not wait up for me, bucko.”

Dean makes a gagging noise before shoving another spoonful of soup into his mouth. He’s the only one still eating and this is his third bowl. To be fair, soup never really fills him up much and he didn’t really have a whole lot of veggies to round things off. Frankly, he feels like it’s owed to him. At least he’s not stuffing himself with bread or something – not that Dean gives a flying fuck about

He nearly chokes on his spoon when Cas clears his throat. Cas glances at him out of the corner of his eye, still trying to keep up some pretense of actually watching the show. “What about you, Dean?”

That’s a good question. He doesn’t really have anything planned right now, but it’s not like he wants to _say_ that. And he definitely does want to say it to Cas. It takes him to the bottom of his bowl before he shrugs and actually puts together a decent answer.

“Well, I get off work that morning so I’m probably going to spend most of the day sleeping.” Dean leans forward to put his empty bowl on the table and snag his can of coke. “I might hit the bar if I’m awake enough and not feeling too lonely. But Valentine’s Day is one of the ones where people play loose and casual with fire while trying to be romantic and accidents happen, so I’ll be on call too.”

In the few seconds before Charlie to butt her nose in again, Cas’s eyebrows come together in a little frown. It only lasts for a blink before he’s turning to listen to Charlie as she claps her hands together sharply. “I think we’re overlooking the fact that Cas hasn’t answered the question yet.”

“I have no plans.” Cas sighs and shakes his head, completely missing the excited look that Charlie throws to Dean and the murderous one he throws back in return. “I will likely go for a long walk or something to get out of the house.”

“How come?”

Cas’s lips pull together into a tight line, frustration starting to seep into his expression. Dean isn’t sure if it’s the topic, the fact that they’re interrupting the show, or something else entirely. “It’s Gabriel.” Oh, okay. Something else entirely it is then. “He is absolutely _insufferable_ if he doesn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, and I honestly can’t remember the last time he had one.”

“Now this is something I need to hear.” Dean does what they should have done a while ago and pauses the show. He twists on the couch to face Cas too, totally ready to get as much dirt on Gabe as he can. They’re on decent terms, but he’s the kind of guy that just begs to be teased.

With an exasperated wave of both his hands, Cas launches into probably the shortest rant ever. “Gabriel gorges himself on all the chocolate he can buy while watching romantic comedies and whining about how _alone_ he is. It’s so _annoying_.” He pauses and looks down at his hands, now folded in his lap; his whole face falling into something a little like regret. “I supposed that could be my fault, though.”

Charlie frowns and shuffles around in the chair so she’s leaning over the armrest. “How is it _your_ fault?”

It takes a long time for Cas to answer. He eventually shrugs and brings a hand up to push his glasses up his nose. “Gabriel has – he’s sacrificed a lot to take care of me since our parents died. He was nineteen when that happened and he hasn’t had much of a chance to work on his personal life since then.”

Dean takes a sip of his coke before gesturing at Cas with the half empty can. “Well, it probably didn’t help that you two up and moved all the way heck up here from – where was it again? Florida? Anything Gabe could have had back there would have had to be left behind when you guys moved.”

He knows they moved to get Cas away from such strong sun, but would they have really moved if Gabe had some kind of deep relationship with anyone down there? Maybe, maybe not. “Either way, you’re both big boys now, aren’t you? Gabe doesn’t have to watch after you anymore. There’s nothing stopping him from going out to get some booty if he wants it.”

That was meant to be uplifting, but all it does is make Cas hunch his shoulders. He draws his legs up onto the couch and hugs his knees until he can rest his chin on them. “I suppose. Also, quite a bit of his focus is on the café at the moment. We’re still shy of our six month anniversary of being open.”

“See?” Dean reaches over to pat Cas on the shoulder. “He got himself into this whole the lonely hearts situation. That’s nothing that you need to blame yourself for.”

Cas tilts his head enough to slide Dean a small, appreciative smile. It makes his heart melt. “Thank you.”

He downs the last of his coke before flashing a shaking grin of his own. “Anytime, buddy.” Dean plunks his empty can down next to the remote and picks it up to point at Charlie. “Are we done with the third degree now? Can we get back to the show?”

“Yes, I would like that.” Cas nods in agreement and turns to Charlie, already pulling the wide-eyed look.

She rolls her eyes at the both of them and turns to slump in the chair, readjusting her position so she’s facing the TV again. “You’re both _no fun_.”

Satisfied, Dean restarts the episode right from the beginning. They’ve talked over too much for him not to and this is a quasi-punishment for it. A few minutes into the episode, Charlie turns in her chair again and opens her mouth, but she snaps it shut the moment he shoots her a glare chock full of pure malice. If she so much as utters another syllable, there _will_ be bloodshed tonight. She knows the rules about being a Nosy Nancy, yet here she is _clearly_ breaking the roommate code of conduct.

Not only that, but Dean is _well_ aware of what she’s trying to do. He made it clear to her earlier that dinner and a show with Cas tonight was _not_ going to be a date. But Charlie still has it stuck in her head that it totally is, so now she’s trying to convince them of it too. That’s why he banished her to her room earlier to leave them alone. Too bad Cas had to be nice and let her actually stay down here for Firefly. Dean should have just overruled it and kicked her ass out.

Besides being a giant pain in his ass and disrupting the show, having Charlie down here is also making it really hard for him to give Cas the origami butterfly that he made. It’s currently tucked behind one of the pictures on the shelf above the TV. They can’t see it from where they’re sitting and Dean was planning to pull it out _before_ the sat down to watch something. Charlie is ruining one of his favourite things about the weekend and his need for vengeance is rising by the minute.

After two episodes, Cas interrupts them for a pee break. He’s squirming in his seat by that point and he actually looks like he regrets having to stop the show to use the bathroom. That means he’s probably enjoying it and Dean falls for him maybe just a little bit more. How can he not when Cas actually _likes_ the things that he introduces him to?

While Cas is in the bathroom, Dean and Charlie start cleaning up the kitchen. First things first, their dishes go in the dishwasher. There really isn’t that much to clean, since Dean keeps on top of that while he’s cooking. All the utensils are already dry in the rack on the counter, and the only thing soaking in the sink at the moment is the frying pan he used for the bacon. The only thing really left for them to wash is the inner liner of the slow cooker. Before they can do that, the soup needs to go into a container.

Charlie keeps delaying putting away the veggie tray by snacking on the leftovers while she’s going through the cupboard trying to find a container big enough for the remaining soup. Dean made a massive batch so he has some to take to the station. It’s just _so good_ and he could totally eat it throughout the week without getting tired of it. That’s actually his plan, as long as Charlie and Jo don’t pig out on it first. He doesn’t mind sharing, but they have to at least check with him before eating it. Those are the rules of the fridge, after all.

By the time Charlie actually finds a container big enough for the rest of the soup, Cas is long done in the bathroom. He ends up being the one to pour the leftovers into the container, even holding the inner liner of the slow cooker so Charlie can take the serving spoon to the insides to make sure they get everything. She disappears into the bathroom herself as soon as she’s done her part, leaving Cas to take the liner to Dean.

“See what I said about cleaning up after herself?” Dean laughs more to himself than anything as he fills the liner with soapy water. The bacon pan is clean and drying on the rack now. “Thanks for helping out. You really didn’t have to.”

“You fed me. Helping out is the least I could do.” Cas leans his hip against the counter and pops a baby carrot into his mouth. “Would you like me to put away the vegetables?”

It’s only slightly unnerving that Charlie actually shouts at them through the bathroom door. “No, leave it out! I’ve got plans for those veggies!”

Cas shares a confused look with him before Dean shrugs. He scrubs the inside of the slow cooker clean and rinses it in the time it takes Charlie to be done in the bathroom. She walks out drying her hands on her shirt and promptly picks up the remains of the veggie tray. “These puppies are coming with me back upstairs. My phone has been blowing up from the crew begging me to get back on the server and grind, so I’m leaving the rest of the Firefly education to you, Dean.”

He breathes an inward sigh of relief, only hating himself slightly for feeling that way about his best friend. “Yeah, I can do that. Tell the guys I say hi and let them know that I _won’t_ be going online tonight. After I take Cas home, I coming back and going straight to bed.”

Charlie flaps her hand at him before shoving a large piece of broccoli into her mouth. “Yeah, yeah, make all the excuse you want. We all know you’re just _weak_.” She laughs and gives Cas a big, overdramatic wink. “It was nice hanging out with you tonight.”

“You too.” Cas nods, all polite and perfect. He’s just so _nice_ to Dean’s friends, even though he’s not that great with people outside of his safe spaces, and despite how Charlie has been nothing but a pain and deserves to be scorned.

With one last wave over her shoulder, Charlie heads off upstairs. It takes a few seconds for that to really click that she has the veggie tray with her and Dean turns to shout after her. “And I want that tray back _tonight_. It’s not going to set in your room and get gross or take up your tiny-ass garbage can!”

“Yes, _mother_.”

Cas actually honest-to-goodness snorts and immediately claps a hand over his mouth. That doesn’t change that he actually laughed in the first place and Dean shoots him a glare. If anything, that only makes him laugh more. It’s a shame that he keeps his hand in place, because it hides what is undoubtedly a really great smile.

Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s not like I _asked_ for this position.”

“I’m not sure I would have ever pegged you to the be the den mother type.” Cas reveals his smile, all soft and warm, when he reaches for one of the dish towels hanging off the handle of the stove. He lays it out on the counter for Dean to up end the slow cooker’s liner on it too dry since it’s too big for his little drying rack next to the sink.

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugs and shoves his hand back into the dishwater to pull out the plug to drain the sink. “I was kinda raise into it, to be honest. There were plenty of times when we were kids that I had to watch Sammy. I was pretty much the live-in babysitter once I was old enough.”

Cas grabs the other dish towel also hanging on the stove and passes it over for Dean to dry his hands with. “Did you parents leave you alone fairly often?”

“Nah, not that often.” He hangs the towel back in place once he’s done and snags the container of soup off the counter. “It took Mom a while before she was comfortable with leaving us alone. Once she was, she signed up to be a volunteer firefighter like my dad.”

Dean takes the container to the fridge, wedging it into the an open space next to the boxes of pop they still have left over from the New Year’s Eve party. They would run off together if there was a big enough call, but that didn’t really happen a lot. More often than not, they would go out for drinks with the rest of the crew or have their once-a-week date night.”

“Were they married long at that point? It’s sweet that they were still going on dates.” Cas follows after him and reaches past his shoulder to grab a Dr. Pepper.

“Yeah, they were married before I was born. She wouldn’t let me babysit alone until I was eleven, and even then the neighbours would pop in to make sure I hadn’t killed Sam or something.” Dean grabs himself a beer too before shutting the fridge. It’s the only one he’s going to have tonight, but he doesn’t much want anymore fizzy sweetness that comes with pop and water is too bland right now. “I guess they just want to keep the romance alive. They’re still going on a weekly date even now.”

If anything, Cas’s smile grows even softer and he gets a little distant look in his eyes. “That sounds very nice. I’m glad your parents are still happy together.”

“Me too.” He shrugs and wrinkles his nose while cracking open the can. “Honestly, though, I try not to think about it.”

“Why not?” Cas’s smile falls and the look he turns on Dean is all kinds of disappointed. “That kind of love should be valued.”

“Dude, they’re my _parents_.” Dean laughs and takes a swig of his beer. “I’m totally happy that they’re in love all these years later in between the bickering and the general relationship stuff, but I don’t want to think about them being all romantic and sappy with each other. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

The only look he gets from Cas after this a blank kind of stare. It takes Dean a minute to figure out why. He here is gushing about his parents to a guy who lost his. That’s not the best of things and he suddenly feels _really_ stupid for it. Cas doesn’t seem like he’s hurt by it or anything, but he probably doesn’t really understand, maybe? He was – what? – thirteen when his parents died? He totally missed the period of being embarrassed of his parents. That shit is more like mid to late teens, isn’t it?

Now that he feels sufficiently dumb, Dean gestures towards the living room with his can of beer. “You wanna get back to the show now?”

Cas tilts his head to the side slightly before nodding. “That sounds like a good plan.”

They head back to the living room and Dean takes a detour to check out the front window. It’s still snowing pretty heavily and he groans under his breath. “I’m totally going to need to shovel the driveway tonight or it’s going to be even worse by tomorrow.” But he doesn’t _want_ to do that. He wants to sit comfy cozy on the couch with Cas and binge watch an amazing show the rest of the evening.

Their shoulders bump together as Cas steps in next to him, almost pressing his nose against the window to look outside. “Would you like some help?”

“It was bad enough my guest helped me clean up, Cas. I’m not making you shovel snow too.” He shrugs, brushing their shoulders together again just because he can. “Besides, we’ve got Firefly to watch.”

Cas turns away from the window to take his spot back in the corner of the couch. “And just how many more episodes are you planning on making me watch?”

“ _All_ of them!” He grins and drops onto his end of the couch. “Plus the movie.”

That gets him a raised eyebrow and amused half-smile. “You never disclosed that there would be a _movie_ too. How long do you think I’m going to be staying?”

Dean reaches over to place a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder, schooling his expression into something sombre. “You’re probably the only person in the world who finds happiness in that fact that Firefly is only _fourteen_ episodes long. Plus the movie.”

The look he gets is both horrified and confused and exactly what he was expect. “But – but why?”

“Because it was –” He hangs his head and takes a deep breath, playing up the drama. “It was _cancelled_.”

Cas’s confusion goes into full blown horror and he looks at the TV with what eyes. “But _why_? The acting is good, the characters are well developed – and I’ve only seen _two_ episodes, mind you – the world is interesting, and –”

“I know, Cas, I know.” Dean shakes his head and takes up the remote control again. “You’re preaching to the choir here, buddy.”

“At least tell me we get some closure with Simon and River’s story.” The look Cas gives him is just desperate enough that Dean somehow manages to keep himself from laughing. “It’s been two episodes and I have no answer as to what they’re running from, and they are _clearly_ running from something.”

With great effort, Dean manages not to grin like an idiot. He is _beyond_ pleased that Cas is so interested in this. This wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding if he ended up not really caring for the show – which has happened before. Dean’s heart damn near broke when, despite _hours_ of trying, he wasn’t able to get Sam to give two shits about any of the Star Trek series. Not even the glory of Shatner in his prime, or the beauty of Seven of Nine or Dr. Troy was enough to keep Sam interested. Worst day of his life.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” Dean pats him on the shoulder again before taking his hand back before he gets _too_ touchy-feely. “All the loose ends get wrapped up in the movie.”

“ _Good_.” Cas visibly relaxes and curls back into his corner of the couch. “I was worried that you were going to be cruel and introduce me to a show that leaves me with more questions than answers.”

He lays a hand on his chest and adopts the most wounded expression he can muster. “I would _never_ do that to you, Cas. I’d think you would know me better than that.”

“You can stop with the dramatics now and start the next episode.”

“I will, but there’s something I need to do first.” Dean almost forgot about it what with their conversation and all. He gets up and retrieves the butterfly from behind the picture, bringing it back to Cas. “Here. This is for you.”

It might be his imagination, but he’s pretty sure a little bit of colour fills Cas’s cheeks. He takes the butterfly gently and cradles it in his hands; the softest smile slipping across his lips. “It’s lovely, Dean. Thank you.”

The best thing is that he honestly sounds _sincere_ about that and Dean’s heart flutters like it was a butterfly itself. It had taken him awhile to pick the perfect kind of paper for this design, but he had settled on a ombré paper that is blue in the center and fades into a really nice shade of purple along the edges. Dean thought it was really pretty and would look good as a butterfly – and he was right.

He clears his throat and rubs a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed by the way Cas is looking at the origami. “H-how about I put on another episode for you while I go shovel the driveway?”

“I would prefer if you watched with me.” Cas looks up from the butterfly, that smile still in place. It’s all warm and happy and it’s killing Dean on the inside. “What if we watched another episode and then I _help_ you shovel?”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” Dean laughs and shakes his head, knowing that this is a losing battle he’s trying to fight.

Cas nods, his smile turning determined. “Not in the slightest. Especially since you’re going to be driving me home afterward. It’s the least I can do for such an imposition.”

“Fine, fine.” He knows when he’s been beaten. Dean raises his hands in defeat and drops back on the couch. “One more episode, then. If we’ve got the time after shoveling, we could maybe watch another episode or two?”

“Well, we can’t watch them _all_ tonight” Cas looks down again and fidgets with the butterfly, tugging at the corners of its wings to straighten them out a little. He glances at Dean over the edges of his glasses, almost like he’s being _shy_. “Why don’t we save the rest of them for another time?”

Of course Dean isn’t going to complain about that. It just means that he gets to arrange another time for Cas to come over, or for him to go over to his place. That’s more time together and he is _always_ game for that. Granted, all the time they spend together is making it basically impossible to get over him. If anything, it’s making him fall for Cas even more, but it’s _really_ hard to stop.

“Doing that is going to break the hearts of binge watchers everywhere, Cas.” Dean sighs, but he still uses the remote to select the next episode. “But, okay. You’ve twisted my arm. When do you want to come back and see the rest of them?”

Cas hums softly, thinking. “What about –” He pauses and looks away briefly. “What about continuing the marathon next weekend?”

That’s not too bad. The weekends are really the only time when the two of them can actually hang out for an extended period of time. There’s just one problem with next weekend. “I work on Saturday.”

“But you don’t work on Sunday.” Cas looks back down at his butterfly, his cheeks getting even redder. “Since I want to get out of the house anyways, and if you’re not going to be doing anything, maybe we could hang out? If you don’t mind – I know it might be weird, that is.”

And just like that, Dean’s brain up and quits on him. It’s a full and utter mind break and he stares at the TV for far too long, not actually processing the start of the episode. Cas wants to hang out with him on _Valentine’s Day_. He would be spending arguably one of the most romantic evenings of the year with his crush and _holy shit_. Dean should say no. He should say that is not a good thing because it makes him hope and how the hell will he ever get over Cas if they do things like that? He should absolutely pick a different goddamn day.

“O-okay.”

 _Fuck_.

_** ** _

Dear God, what has he _done_? Castiel is an idiot – a stupid, selfish _idiot_. He has never, in his entire life, _ever_ been jealous of anyone or anything. Envious? Yes, on occasion. Considering the limitations of his life, of course he would be envious of those who can lead a normal life. But he has never been in a situation where he could be jealous. Yet here is he, jealous and doing all manner of moronic things because of it. Worse yet, he’s jealous over someone who doesn’t even really exist!

When Dean mentioned that he was considering going to the bar on Valentine’s Day, an ugly little feeling had started to build up in Castiel’s chest. He is not entirely naïve enough not to know what that means. From what he understands, mostly those with lonely hearts looking to spend the night with someone would be at the bar on Valentine’s Day. The thought of Dean being with someone else had put an acrid taste in Castiel’s mouth, but he had planned on ignoring it. He _planned_ on that, but now he’s gone and acted on it like an imbecile, because that’s what he is now.

Only a fool such as him would go and make plans with Dean on Valentine’s Day – _Valentine’s Day_ – for the sole purpose of making sure that he wouldn’t be going out to meet someone else. Of course Castiel is looking forward to spending time with him, much as he always does, but this sudden plan of his was just stupid to start with. Frankly, he should _want_ his friend – his _friend_ – to find someone else and be happy with them. Castiel can’t be the one to give him what he wants, so obviously someone else will have to be the one to do it.

Alright, so keeping Dean from the bar wasn’t the _only_ reason he asked to make these plans. Castiel honestly enjoys hanging out with him, and he really is enjoying this new show. He wants to know how it ends and the show is an excellent excuse for them to spend more time together. Technically speaking, he shouldn’t really need an _excuse_ for that. They’re _friends_ and friends can spend time together just for the heck of it.

On the bright side, Dean seems happy with their plans. He was surprised at first, and maybe a little unsure, but now he’s watching the show with a smile and a blush. Dean isn’t trying to hide either, and Castiel can’t help but wonder what they mean. Would he be blushing if he didn’t still like him? Castiel was almost certain that what Dean originally felt for him was nothing more than a lust based infatuation. Would that not have gone away once he was turned down? Regardless, it’s just a matter of time before Dean moves on.

 This so called ‘ _moving on_ ’ is more difficult for Castiel to do. His feelings aren’t rooted in lust. Frankly, it’s his feelings for Dean – this tight tension in his chest – that caused his arousal that one time. It didn’t help matters at all that he was trying to determine if it was just general affection or if he could find himself sexually attracted to Dean. The answer to that was clearly a ‘ _yes_ ’ and Castiel has done his best to never think like that again. He felt bad enough doing it once that he doesn’t even want to think about how he might feel if he did it again.

Since that night, Castiel has analyzed his physical and emotional reactions to Dean. They’ve been combed through with a fine toothed comb more times than he cares to count, and he has come to a few conclusion. One; yes, he can be sexually attracted to Dean under the right circumstances. Two; he really does like him quite a bit.

 More than anything, Castiel just really likes spending time with him. He always looks forward to their meetings; even the five or ten minute ones when Dean is buying coffee while working overnight. When he isn’t around, Castiel misses him and thinks often about sending him a text message and he often wracks his brain for topics they could discuss. Worse yet, he finds himself often wishing that they could spend even _more_ time together.

God, these feelings make him _sick_. Literally. They make his insides go topsy-turvy; twisting up on themselves whenever he makes the mistake of even remotely thinking about being in a relationship with Dean in any way, shape, or form. It’s not going to happen and Castiel needs to figure out a way to let these stupid feelings go. Unfortunately, that’s almost impossible to do when he keeps wanting to spend more time with Dean.

Hanging out together is not helping matters for either of them, and he has _no right_ to keep Dean from going out on Valentine’s Day. If that’s what he wants to do, then Castiel should be supporting him. He’s not being fair to Dean, or to himself. This is only going to make things harder on them both. Castiel should do the right thing and revoke his suggestion, instead arranging for a different time.

Unsurprisingly, nothing comes out of his mouth. Instead, he remains selfish and quiet, settled in his corner of the couch while he fidgets with the origami butterfly. If it wasn’t for the TV show, Castiel would have nothing to distract else to distract him from the bubbling self-hatred that has settled in his stomach. He does, however, try his very best to focus on nothing but the show and give it the full attention that it deserves.

About halfway through the episode, his self-loathing starts to wane in favour of absorbing every detail that comes across the screen. By the time the episode comes to an end, he doesn’t feel nearly as terrible as he did during its beginning. Castiel even manages to maintain some composure and not be _entirely_ awkward as they get dressed to shovel snow. He only brought his mittens with matching beanie and he pulls them on while Dean is digging his own out from the closet next to the door.

“Did you bring a scarf?” He glances over his shoulder, eyeing Castiel up while he’s buttoning up his coat.

“I didn’t think I needed one.”

Dean sighs and throws a large scarf at him. “Here, use mine. I’ll borrow Charlie’s. You’re going to want one to keep the snow out of the collar of your coat.”

He straightens up with another scarf in hand. It’s thinner and clearly it’s from Gryffindor house; confirmed by the crest at the end of it. The one in Castiel’s hands is fairly long in a blue, silver, and gray plaid pattern. It has a blue and white star at the end and he has no idea what this one is referenced to, but he suspects that it’s not likely to be from Harry Potter.

“The Dallas Cowboys. _Football_.” Dean must have caught him inspecting the scarf. He turns to him with a smile and taps at the star. “I’ve never been to Texas, but they drafted my favourite player, so I guess they’re my favourite team now.” He shrugs with a laugh and turns to head out the front door.

Castiel follows while wrapping the scarf around his neck. The moment he feels the first flecks of cold snow against his face, he tugs it up over his nose and pulls the edge of his hat down a little farther. He regrets his actions immediately. Dean’s scarf smells like him. It’s definitely not a bad scent, in fact, he would even say that it’s very _nice_ , but Castiel’s heightened senses are almost overpowered by it.

The first breath he takes leaves his head reeling and he staggers slightly on the snowy path from the front steps to the garage door. If he continued breathing, he would adjust pretty quickly as he does with most scents like this. The problem is, however, that the scarf smells _really_ good and it smells like _Dean_. He doesn’t want to get used to being this close to his scent. He doesn’t want to get drunk off of it while they’re standing only a few feet apart.

While Dean punches in a code on a pin pad to open the door, Castiel pulls the scarf down to tuck it under his chin. He would rather deal with cold snow on his face than trying to get used to it. If he gets exposed to it in such a large dose, as opposed to just being in Dean’s general space, he might come to crave it. This is bad enough and he hopes to the high heavens that he won’t end up lying in bed in the morning thinking about this godforsaken scent.

“We’re lucky that the snow is still all nice and powdery.” Dean ducks under the garage door while it’s still rising and leads the way to one of the walls. There are three shovels mounted on hooks; two of the same ergonomic plastic kind and one that looks like a flat metal spade. He takes down the two plastic shovels and hands one to Castiel. “We should be able to clear the driveway with just these. Otherwise we’d have to use that metal one to break the ice and I always worry about damaging the concrete.”

“You’re such a conscientious homeowner.” Castiel teases and heads back out into the snow. He takes a deep breath of the crisp winter air, using it to clear his head.

Some of Dean’s neighbours down the street are shoveling too and he gives them a wave before turning to gesture at the driveway. “How about you start on one end, I’ll start on the other, and we’ll meet in the middle?”

“The terms are acceptable.” He nods and digs his shovel into the snow at his feet, laying claim to the top of the driveway. “Don’t slip on your way down to the bottom.”

Dean rolls his eyes with a laugh and tromps down to where the sidewalk should be. It’s a bit hard to see where it is because of the snow. They start shoveling mostly at the same time, scraping the shovel from one side to the other before tossing the accumulated snow onto the lawn. This is very different from cleaning the sidewalk in front of the café and tidying up the back parking lot after the big tractors have come through. Last winter was the first time Castiel had shoveled snow in over ten years. He’s been doing it a few times this winter too and he’s honestly not sure whether he likes it anymore.

When he was a child, he has distinctly fond memories of shoveling snow with his parents. They would always make a game out of it to see who could shovel the most, measuring by whose pile was biggest. Whoever had the _smallest_ pile would be subjected to a firing squad of snowballs from the remaining players. Castiel is certain that every other year his parents made sure to lose so he wouldn’t constantly be losing every year. Gabriel is a good six years older than him and always went all out when it came to a competition within the family.

The nostalgia hits him hard and Castiel pauses in his shoveling. He’s cleared maybe half of his side of the driveway at this point, the fluffy snow making it easy going. Dean appears to be pretty focused on what he’s doing and he takes no notice when Castiel crouches to quickly pack a snowball between his hands. He keeps an eye on him while he does it, making sure to stand up and at least act like he’s still somewhat doing what he’s supposed to do. His snowball isn’t going to be perfect, but it should at least get the job done.

Castiel _really_ hopes that Dean isn’t going to be upset with him for this. From what he knows of his personality, he’s near certain that Dean will find this entertaining. If not, then he clearly doesn’t know him very well and there will still be more to learn. With the fingers of his free hand crossed, Castiel pulls back and throws his snowball with fairly decent accuracy – which both surprises and makes him a little bit proud, if he had to pat himself on the shoulder.

As soon as the snowball is out of his hand, Castiel returns to shoveling and does his best to continue to look innocent. He doesn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing it hit Dean, but he does hear the solid thump and the squawk of surprise. It is _very_ difficult not to laugh at that, but he does look up and turn slowly, trying his best to look confused.

Dean whips around, eyes narrowed. “Did you just –?”

“Did I what?” Castiel tilts his head, still clinging to his innocent act while fighting to keep the smile from his face. “I’ve been busy shoveling.”

After a minute of silent suspicion, Dean stabs his shovel into the snowbank he’s been building on the side of the driveway. He doesn’t look away, holding Castiel’s eyes with his own, as he slowly crouches to form a snowball of his own. It looks like things are about to get interesting.

Castiel lifts his shovel in his hands as if it were a baseball bat and spreads his feet a little wider to steady himself. “Dean Winchester, don’t you _dare_ throw that at me.”

“An eye for an eye, Cas.” Dean grins as he clearly puts force into compacting the snow.

“The saying actually goes; an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

With a shrug, Dean rolls his shoulders and holds his snowball up. It is significantly bigger than the one that Castiel threw. “You should have thought of that before you took the first shot here, huggybear.”

He draws back and Castiel hefts his shovel a little higher. “Don’t do it, Dean.”

Of course he doesn’t listen. Dean launches his snowball like a professional pitcher and Castiel swings, doing his best to knock it out of the air before it reaches him. It’s no surprise that he misses. The snowball catches him in the shoulder with a loud _whumph_. The momentum of his swing causes Castiel to lose his balance, and the impact doesn’t help any. He staggers backwards and his back aches as his wings strain against his tattoo, trying to flare out and stabilize him. Without them he ends up falling on his ass in the snow.

 _Silence_.

Dean stands, frozen in his throwing position, and stares at him. Castiel stares back, the both of them blinking at the sudden turn of events. After a few moments, Dean doubles over laughing. It starts with an explosive burst and he ends up with his hands on his knees, cackling to himself. Castiel should be annoyed that his misfortune is a source of amusement, especially with the snow soaking into the bottom of half of his coat. But he can’t. He simply is not capable of being upset when his insides feel like their glowing as brightly as the street lights illuminating the road.

It is completely _insane_ that Dean’s laughter could have this kind of effect on him. Castiel can feel his face starting to heat up, and it’s not from embarrassment. He ducks his head, trying to tuck his face into the scarf so Dean won’t see it. At this point, he would rather breathe the heady scent from the scarf than have anyone see him _blush_.

A hand enters his field of vision, shaking slightly as Dean is still wracked with the giggles. Castiel puts on a mask of grumpiness to hide this true feelings right now. He even throws in a low rumble of a growl to throw Dean off his trail. If he thinks he’s upset, he won’t catch wind of anything else. He won’t _suspect_ Castiel of any _feelings_.

The moment the growl hits the air, Dean’s laughter and smile vanishes. His eyes go wide and his jaw drops; his whole body going very still. It’s much the same as his first reaction to hearing Castiel growl, and he’s honestly not sure if it’s a good or a bad one. Dean certainly seems to be stunned by it, though. Castiel ignores it and grabs his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. As soon as he’s standing, he yanks hard on Dean’s hand and twists to shove him into the snow.

With a squeak of surprise, he goes to his hands and knees in the snow. “Aw, c’mon, Cas!”

“Now we’re both blind.” Castiel hums smugly to himself as he slaps the snow off his coat.

Dean groans and grumbles to himself as he rocks back onto his heels. Castiel takes pity on him, as he did throw the first snowball after all, and helps him stand up again. He even leans down to slap the snow from Dean’s knees for him. After a few slaps, Castiel realizes what he’s doing and he straightens sharply. He even takes a step back, a muttered apology on his lips.”

“It’s fine, Cas.” With a laugh, Dean finishes what he started. “How about you? Want me to do a snow check on your back?”

“I’m fine.” He shakes his head quickly and grabs his shovel again. “We should get this finished now. You’ll become a popsicle soon enough if you stay out here any longer.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, but he does start heading back to his own abandoned shovel. “Yeah, says the guy who threw the first snowball.”

Castiel huffs and slides the shovel along, gathering the snow. “Well, maybe we can have a proper snow fight next week if this sticks around.”

“I’m game for that!” And Dean even sounds excited. He flashes Castiel a bright smile. “I could get Sammy to help me build some forts in the backyard and make it a proper battleground and everything. Oh – unless that’s something you would rather do yourself?”

“It’s up to you.” He shrugs and returns Dean’s smile. “It would certainly save us time next week if you build everything before I get here, but I would be fine with whatever you choose to do.”

Dean taps the end of his shovel against the side of his foot. “Hm, we’ll see what happens.” After a moment’s pause where he appears to be thinking, he returns to shovelling. “I’ll think about that later. Let’s get this shit taken care of before the snow covers up all our hard work.”

Castiel nods in agreement and gets back to his own work. The sooner they’re done, the better. It’s getting later by the minute and Dean should probably be in bed soon if he wants to be well rested for his shift in the morning. That’s not even thinking about poor Nike. She is never happy when Castiel leaves not long after waking up and doesn’t come home for hours. At least when he’s at the café he can bring her downstairs with him. He’s just not used to having actual _plans_ with someone.

Even though it’s been a few months since he and Dean have started hanging out, Castiel still finds it a little weird. He can’t believe how much has changed since September. No, since _January_. Dean is just a force of nature and he gets so swept up in him. He has an effect on Castiel that is both dizzying and amazing all at once.

While he might regret that he accidentally on purpose made plans with Dean for next weekend, he must admit that he is rather looking forward to spending Valentine’s Day with him.

*

**_Sunday – February 7 th, 2016_ **

It’s the flush of the toilet that alerts Castiel to the fact that his brother is awake. He’s surprised that he didn’t hear his bedroom door, but he has been rather busy. The TV has been going quietly and he’s been focused on the news while doing his sit ups.

Gabriel walks into the room a few moments later, yawning and knuckle at his eyes. “Hey, how did your dinner with Dean go?”

“Fine.” Castiel answers with a grunt as he sits up and his chest almost touches his knees. “We had soup and salad for supper while we started watching Firefly.” He drops down with a sigh and then sits up again. “Charlie was there too.”

“And?” He moves to stand by Castiel’s head, staring down at him every time he lays down.

“I helped him shovel his drive way.” With a shrug, he sits up again. “We threw a couple of snowballs. It was nice.”

Gabriel frowns and puts his hands on his hips. “ _And_?”

Dear God, is he going to be in one of his annoying moods right out of bed? Castiel rolls his eyes and turns over onto his stomach, done with his sit ups. “And you’re going to spend Valentine’s Day with Nike unless you make your own plans to go out.”

He starts doing his push ups so he doesn’t have to see Gabriel’s face, and vice versa. The last thing he wants is for his brother to be able to read into anything that might be seen in his expression. What that really gets him is Gabriel’s feet in his face and a kick to the shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to actually explain that.”

Castiel would rather not, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. If he doesn’t, Gabriel probably won’t let him get to sleep in a little while. He sighs as he tightens his core to keep his knees from touching the floor while he’s doing his push ups. “I said you have to get yourself a date this year. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I have _never_ worried about you on Valentine’s Day, Cassie.” Gabriel sounds more confused than he does angry, which is a good sign.

“I meant that you don’t have to worry about me in general.” He pauses with his nose nearly touching the floor. “I’m an adult now and I can take care of myself.”

After a long pause, Gabriel puts a foot on his back. It’s a sign that he wants him to stop doing his push ups, but no amount of force he could exert would be enough to stop Castiel’s natural strength. “Are you saying you’re moving out?”

“No, of course not.” At this point in his life, Castiel can’t even imagine living without Gabriel. “I’m saying that you can live your own life. You don’t have to babysit your baby brother anymore.”

“I’m very confused and not awake enough for this.” Gabriel sighs and steps away. “I’m getting a coffee and then we’re going to sit down and talk about this.”

That’s about what Castiel expected to happen, even if he would prefer that they don’t. They’ve had enough heavy conversations lately regarding his adamant refusal to put anyone in danger because of his selfish desires. Especially conversations about Dean in particular.

As Gabriel heads into the kitchen, Nike takes his place and starts butting her head against the top of Castiel’s while he does his push ups. She gets under his face when he pushes up and rubs her back against his nose, purring loudly as she attempts to smother him with her bulk of fur. This level of affection means that she’s about ready for bed. By the clock alone, Castiel knows he has a good half an hour or so before the sun, so he wants to finish with his workout and take a shower before then. No cat and no brother will be able to distract him from that.

Once Gabriel comes back with his coffee, he sits on the floor with his back against the wall. “Alright, so what’s this thing about you telling me to live my own life now, huh? I’m pretty damn sure that is _exactly_ what I’ve been doing. In case you haven’t noticed, I now own my own _café_ and that’s been my dream for at least seven years.”

While he does have a point, he hasn’t covered the fact that he must be feeling lonely. Castiel gets up and starts doing squats so he can face his brother for the talk they’re apparently having now. He laces his fingers behind his neck and focuses on the wall over Gabriel’s shoulder instead of on him directly. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t let me be what’s keeping you from going out and finding a love of your own.”

“A love of my –” Gabriel lowers his coffee and runs a hand over his face. “Cassie, what the hell? If I wanted love, trust me, I’d find it.”

That’s what he says, but his history begs to differ. “Really? When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

“Do you really want to play this game with me?” He narrows his eyes and gestures threateningly with his coffee. “Do you _really_?”

Castiel shrugs and continues with his squats. “I worry that I’m holding you back. My problems shouldn’t be your problems.”

“Too bad, because we’re _family_ , Castiel.”

The use of his actual name shows that Gabriel is serious and Castiel stops his squats in the middle of one. His knees are pressed to his chest and his ass nearly touches the floor. He actually looks at him now, eyes sliding away from the wall.  

“Your problems are my problems whether you like it or not. You’re all I’ve got left and I’m more invested in keeping you safe than I am with getting some booty.” Gabriel takes an angry sip of his coffee and gestures at him sharply. “If I want love, or if I want sex – Hell, if I want _anything_ , then I’ll get it. But _you_ are more important to me than any of that. Got it?”

Castiel ducks his head, hiding his face in the space between his knees. “Careful. If you get any more sweet, you might make me cry.”

Gabriel snorts harshly and lifts his coffee as if he was going to clink mugs with an invisible cup. “You frikken _should_. I’m awesome and everyone should week at my greatness.”

Well, there’s _that_ moment done with. Castiel rolls his eyes as he stands up to shake out his arms and legs. He’ll do some stretches before he hops in the shower to rinse off. Nike doesn’t like it when he goes to bed even slightly sweaty.

Just as he starts his stretching, Gabriel clears his throat loudly. “So, what’s this about leaving me alone on Valentine’s Day?”

He swears internally and winces. Castiel had been hoping that their heart to heart right there would have distracted Gabriel from that. This was his own mistake. He never should have started the conversation with something like that.

_ _

**_Friday – February 12 th, 2016_ **

“So, can you explain to me again why I’m helping you do this?” Sam calls to him from across the yard with an edge of annoyance in his voice. It’s a little dumb that he’s only doing that _now_ considering how long they’ve been out here.

“You’re doing it because you love me and you love spending time with me.” He looks up over the edge of the snow fort that he’s been working on for the last hour to find Sam hunched over the top of his own on the other side of the yard.

Sam looks up with a frown, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold. It’s not _that_ cold out, otherwise he’d be wearing a scarf to go with his ridiculous hat with the ear flaps tied down under his chin. He’s even wearing _snow pants_ like the dork that he is. Well, no. That’s actually pretty smart. Dean kinda wishes he had a pair of his own, given that they’re kneeling in the snow and everything while building their forts.

“We’re not going to be a having a snowball fight. So what’s the point of this?” Sam stands up straight and Dean uses it as a chance to confirm that he is building the fort to specifications. He told him that he wanted it to be a semi-circular fort with walls that went up to hip-height. It looks like Sam was listening, which is good. Now Dean doesn’t have to touch it up later.

“Not _yet_.” Dean shrugs and ducks back down again. “We can have one next week maybe. But I need these for this week and you and I make the best damn forts for a snow war.”

When he looks again, Sam is giving him the squinty stink-eyes. Dean ignores it in favour of digging out a storage pit into the bank of snow that makes up one side of his fort. He figures that he and Cas are just going to crouch in their respective forts when they have their snowball fight on Sunday. That’s only if they have it, though. It’s no big loss if they don’t, because he and Sam can use it another day. Lord knows that they’ve had at _least_ once snow war every winter ever since they were old enough to throw a decent snowball. Not to mention that their parents are both colossal dorks and totally egged it on too before joining in themselves.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam gets his attention again, this time by walking up to his fort. “Do you want me to build a stockpile for the storage pit?”

“Nah, don’t bother.” He had considered it himself, but preparing in advance would be a little bit on the cheating side. Not to mention that all the snowballs would probably fuse together in some way by Sunday. It’ll be more fun to give them a five minute time limit to make as many snowballs as they can and that’s their ammunition for the war.

They’ve been out in the backyard for a few hours now and it’s no surprise that Sam has gotten a little annoying. He tucks his hands under his armpits. “When are we going inside?”

“Are you done?” Dean spares a glance towards the other fort.

“I guess.” Sam shrugs and looks at it too. “I mean, the most I can do right now is build it taller, but that would end up affecting the structural integrity of the whole thing.”

Good point. “Yeah, I guess we can go in.” It’s not like his pit is going to need to be _that_ deep.

Truth be told, Dean is pretty done with his things too. If he wants, he can always come out and fix them up later today or on Sunday before Cas comes over. It’s possible that Cas might want to fix it up himself. This has all been built to Winchester standard, and the Novak clan might have a methods of their own.

Dean stands up claps his hands together to knock the snow off his thick leather mittens and the two layers of gloves his has on underneath. “You want some hot cocoa or something?”

Sam’s face lights up like a child at Christmas. “You got mini-marshmallows?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.” He laughs and slings an arm over his shoulders as they head towards the house. “I’m not a barbarian, Sammy.”

“Just checking.” Sam huffs and leans into Dean’s side. “Mom didn’t buy any this year.”

Now that’s just downright impossible. “Are you sure she’s not just hiding them? You know how Dad likes to snack on them whenever he opens the pantry.”

“Oh!” He looks at Dean with wide eyes, like he’s honestly surprised by this. “That’s a good point. I’ll have to ask her when I get home.” He smacks himself on the forehead as they reach the door. “I can’t believe I _forgot_ that.”

Dean laughs and pulls the door open for Sam to go through first. Even though he loves his current living situation, sometimes he really does miss living at home.

*

With cocoa prepared and a Netflix booted up, Dean and Sam settle down in the living room to warm up and relax for a while. He extended an offer to Jo and Charlie if they wanted to join them, but both are still upstairs doing their own thing. If the change their minds, Dean will be more than happy to make them a hot cocoa of their own. They might have to fight with Sam for space on the couch, though. He’s made himself mighty comfortable taking up half the couch while he’s wrapped up in a spare blanket like the big ol’ baby that he is.

Dean, on the other hand, is warming up in his fluffiest socks, his thickest sweatpants, and his biggest sweater. That and the hot cocoa are doing a wonderful job of chasing away the chill that crept in while he was outside. The pillow under his ass is keeping it safe from the cold floor too. Currently he’s seated on the floor again with the coffee table pulled up to his chest again. Instead of video games and pizza, this is Dean’s choice of a workspace while folding his origami for this weekend.

Since Sam is well aware of Dean’s crush on Cas, he isn’t going to bother trying to hide the origami from him. He’ll figure it out on his own or flat out ask. Frankly, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Sam already knows what he’s doing, considering that he totally knew _someone_ was leaving origami for Cas at the café. His coworkers never said names, but they definitely gossiped about it. Sam confirmed that once upon a time by gossiping about it to Dean and forcing him to act like he had no idea about it.

While Sam scrolls through Netflix trying to find a good movie to watch, Dean opens up a new packet of origami paper. He needs a whole thirty sheets _at least_ for this one project he wants to do, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to buy a new one. Sam picks a movie and Dean doesn’t even notice. He’s too focused on sorting through the sheets from this pack, picking out the thirty that he wants to use. Once those are pulled out, he starts organizing them into five piles of six, going by complementary colours and patterns.

Dean only half watches the movies once he starts folding. Every piece will get set aside and he’s not going to be able to put them together until later. When he saw Cas the other night during his coffee run, he borrowed his glue gun stated with the excuse of needing it to repair something. It was a little white lie, but he’s going to need it to put the origami pieces together and attach them to the wire that he bought at the hardware store and already cut into the five equal length pieces. Combine all that with the green ribbon that he’s going to get from his Christmas wrapping supplies bin, and he’s going to make one hell of a nice bouquet of flowers.

The one problem he has is that he doesn’t have the nice long clips that the lady in the Youtube video did when he watched her glue the flower pieces together. All he has is a container of paperclips and he hopes those will be good enough, otherwise he’s going to glue the pieces together and then just sit there holding them until he’s sure they won’t fall apart. It’ll be dumb, but he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that they actually stick together.

Honestly, making Cas a _bouquet_ of flowers might not be the smartest thing for him to do. Dean started this plan thinking of it as an ironic gift; the kind that makes fun of the fact that two platonic friends are hanging out together on Valentine’s Day. Besides, this is the weekend and he always gives Cas origami on the weekend. It’s just that this time it’s going to be a whole _bouquet_ of flowers.

Hopefully Cas will like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to make the same bouquet as Dean, [here is the Youtube video](https://youtu.be/hgPdeIaBwXQ?t=293) he watched! 
> 
> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_** ** _

**_Sunday – February 14 th, 2016_ **

“Oh, hey boss.” Tessa smiles at him as she’s pouring a cup of coffee for a hunched, wispy haired man carrying a cane. He must be pushing into his eighties. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Cas nods at her and the customer. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Tessa. How has your shift been so far?”

“It’s great now that I’ve had a chance to chat with my good friend here.” Tessa hands the sleeved to-go cup to the elderly gentleman. “Walt comes in every Sunday when the van from the retirement home comes into town to give the residents a chance to visit town. He gets a tea to-go but always stays and talks to me for a while, don’t you, Walt? Today he even brought me a Valentine’s Day card!” She holds up a simple red envelope with her name scrawled in a rather nice calligraphic font.

Walt smiles a gummy grin but still ducks his head with a blush. “I hope I’m not being too forward. You’re the spitting image of my late wife when I first met her in our twenties.” When he looks at Tessa again, there’s a warm shine to his eyes. “I can’t give her a card anymore, but I would like to give it to you as long as I’m able to.”

Tessa brushes past Castiel to go around the counter. She pulls Walt into a hug and kisses him on the cheek. “I’d be honoured, Walt.”

Castiel has to look away from the moment, if only because of the tears gathering in Walt’s eyes while he hugs Tessa. It feels to private for him to witness, but it does make his heart lurch. He can only hope that one day his life will be steady enough that he could have someone to love for his whole life like Walt apparently has. It’ll take a long time before he’ll feel safe enough from Witches – if ever.

He only looks up again as Tessa walks Walt to the door. “Wait, Tessa. You forgot the gift that you have for him.” Castiel heads over to the display case and pulls out one of the heart shaped sugar cookies being sold today. There aren’t many left, but it’s not too sweet and probably better for an older gentleman. He puts it in one of their wax paper bags and brings it to them at the door.

With a bright smile, Tessa takes the cookie from him to hand to Walt. “Here, handsome. You enjoy this with your tea when you get home, okay?”

“Absolutely. Thank you!” He turns his smile on Castiel and nods his thanks before heading out into the street. There’s a van and an attendee waiting further up the street. Castiel and Tessa stand in the doorway and watch until Walt has gotten into the van before they go inside.

Tessa catches his arm before Castiel can get too far. She pulls him into a quick hug. “Thank you for that. I bet we just made Walt’s night.”

“It seems that simply seeing you makes his night.” He shrugs, but still smiles at her. “Don’t tell Gabriel, but we’ll just write that cookie off on the waste sheet.” That earns a snort of laughter as Tessa heads off into the back of the café.

Castiel returns to the display case and examines what they have left from the day. It’s still relatively early in the evening, so the selection is far better than he’s used to. He’s still trying to decide on what to pick when Tessa returns with the mop and bucket. Thanks to the snow, the floor gets slushy and dirty quite easily and all staff – even the ones who usually only really work in the kitchen – are encouraged to grab the mop and clean if there’s ever the chance for them to do it. Sometimes that’s a little difficult when there are customers come in and out throughout the day.

After several minutes of contemplating, Castiel finally makes up his mind. He takes a box and fills it with three chocolate tarts topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with some cinnamon candy hearts. Those are more for Dean than anything because they’re the closest to pies that they have on hand right now. Castiel’s taste is leaning more towards the éclairs tonight and he picks three of those, carefully arranging them into the box with the tarts. He leaves a fourth on the counter.

He pays for his treats while Tessa takes the mop all through the rest of the café. She’s very good at keeping everything clean and he always enjoys working after her during the week. He does all the deep cleaning behind the machines and on top of the shelves that she can’t do during her shift because of the customers that she deals with. Castiel handles far less people while he’s working and that free time leaves him often looking for things to do, especially now that he’s finished with his cranes.

Tessa gives him a curious look while she’s sweeping past as Castiel makes his way to wait at the windows. She doesn’t ask why he’s down here, but he knows that she wants to. It should be obvious, really. Everyone knows that he spends at least one evening every weekend hanging out with Dean either here or at his house. Despite it being Valentine’s Day, this is _not_ a date. Dean stressed that point via text several times throughout the week, and even when they saw each other in person, all because he doesn’t want Castiel to feel weird about it.

The thing is, he _does_ feel weird about all of this. Castiel feels weird about it because it’s _not a date_ and a large part of him wants it to be. This whole week has been difficult for him and he’s been struggling. He wants to date Dean properly, but he _can’t_ and it’s not fair. Every so often he catches himself thinking – catches himself trying to rationalize some kind of loophole in the restrictions that he’s put on himself. Those restrictions are the only things keeping him from accepting and returning Dean’s feelings in kind.

But none of that matters in light of Dean’s safety. Castiel’s desire to keep him safe and keep him from risk is stronger than anything else. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be able to rationalize _that_ away. Maybe things would be different if Dean actually knew the risks, but that’s something that Castiel isn’t ready to tell anyone. So that lives him to go round and round in circles within his mind as he runs from and chases the same thing.

It makes his heart ache sometimes and he _hates_ this feeling. He can’t help but wonder if maybe things would be easier if he spent less time with Dean, but that’s just about impossible now. They already see each other every other day and already Castiel misses him when he’s not around. He can hardly ever wait for when they can hang out together, and he’s always looking forward to spending time with Dean. That’s why he’s down here right now, waiting for him to come pick him up.

This whole _feelings_ things is absolutely ridiculous and Castiel wishes he had never started having them in the first place. He wouldn’t have so much mental or emotional turmoil if he had maintained distance from everyone like he’s always told himself he would do. This friendship with Dean was unexpected. It was an _accident_ , but it’s not something he’s willing to give up and he only sometimes regrets ever letting Dean get close.

Regardless of the war going on in his head, Castiel couldn’t bring himself to even think of cancelling tonight. In fact, he thought it might be rude for him not to provide some kind of treat since Dean cooked for him last week. Castiel would have liked to cook for him too, but Dean had suggested that they simply order in pizza while watching the rest of Firefly. They even decided on the toppings when e was here for his coffee run last night.

“I think you forgot something.” Tessa calls to him once she returns to her station at the cash register. She holds up the éclair that he had left on the counter.

Castiel glances back over his shoulder. “That’s for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

A bright smile spreads right before she takes a big bite of the éclair. “Thank you!” She finishes it by the time she crosses the café to him and wipes her fingers clean on her apron. “Can I hug you?”

With a sigh, he stands and spreads his arms. “If you must.”

Tessa laughs and hugs him. Again it’s quick and not nearly as pleasant as the ones he’s become accustomed to receiving from Dean. His hugs are solid and comfortable, just begging to be leaned into. They’re the kind of hugs you could get lost in. The kind that make you feel _safe_ – and that’s a feeling Castiel craves with every breath. He’s not sure if he’s going to get one tonight, but he would like one.

When Tessa lets go, he picks up his box of baked goods and turns to the window again. She steps up next to him and leans forwards to look up and down the street. “You have a hot date tonight, boss?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Oh, I see.” She turns a smile on him and he makes sure not to look at her. “Say ‘hi’ to Dean for me.”

Castiel sighs and he shakes his head. “I will.”

There’s no point in denying it. Everyone is aware that he spends a lot of time with Dean, and of course Gabriel couldn’t keep his mouth shut about tonight. The rumours spread within _hours_ of telling him that he was going to spend the evening at Dean’s house. To prove his point, Tessa only laughs and heads back to her station to start wiping the counters down. Castiel rolls his eyes and sinks into the chair again. He rests his head against the glass and focuses on the winter wonderland beyond it.

Not more than a few minutes later, a couple walks in. They’re holding hands and giggling to themselves. Castiel glances at them,  even looking back to see if Tessa might need his help. Of course she doesn’t, but she gives him a thumbs up anyways. He turns his attention back to the window, but listens with half an ear as they order coffees and treats. It is a little surprise that they choose to stay here instead of taking it to go, but they seem plenty comfortable with settling at one of the tables. They even pick a two-hundred piece puzzle off the bookcase and get started on that.

Though he tries not to, Castiel catches himself watching them in the reflections of the glass. They seem like such a happy couple and he vaguely wishes that he could be like that with Dean. Of course they already play games, drink coffee, and eat together all the time, but this – this is _different_. When he does this kind of stuff with Dean, they don’t sit with their heads together. There isn’t an intimate air around them, filled with random kisses and gentle brushes of hands. Those are the kinds of things that he wants, and they’re everything that he’s denying himself.

Castiel is so caught up in watching the happy couple that he doesn’t notice the Impala pulling up into one of the parking spots available in front of the café. It’s the sound of the horn that catches his attention and he refocuses to look out the window. Dean waves at him from inside the car and Castiel waves back.

He stands and glances back to find Tess grinning at him from behind the counter. “Enjoy the rest of your shift and text me if anything goes wrong.”

“Of course.” She gives him a short wave. “Have fun!”

With one last nod, he ducks out of the café. Dean leans over to look at him from under the roof of the car when Castiel opens the door. “Hey, handsome. You going my way?”

Castiel rolls his eyes as he gets into the car, trying not to laugh. “Hello, Dean.” He holds up the box as he puts his seatbelt on. “I brought sweets.”

“Oh _hell_ yes.” Dean flashes him a delighted grin as he pulls out into the minimal traffic. “Gimme one of those.” He reaches over and paws at the closed box. “ _Gimme_.”

“Focus on driving.” Castiel slaps Dean’s hand away and ignores the pout he gets for it. He opens the box and hands over one of the chocolate tarts. “There. Is that acceptable?”

Rather than answer, Dean demolishes the little tart in _two_ bites. It should be at least three, but apparently that doesn’t apply to Dean. He licks his fingers clean while he drives, but Castiel’s eyes are focused on the cascade of crumbs that have fallen across the front of his coat. He waits a few minutes to see if Dean will notice them before he decides to point them out.

“I thought eating in the Impala was against your rules?”

Dean glances at him and this time Castiel notices the crumbs in the corners of his mouth. Some of them fall when he grins. “In the car, I am God. I am _above_ the rules.”

“I see.” Castiel shakes his head and schools his expression to keep from smiling. “Then I would just like to point out that being above the rules has now filled your car with crumbs.”

He gestures at them and Dean looks down. With a soft swear, he licks a finger and starts picking up the crumbs. Castiel smothers a smile behind his hand. “You have them on your face too.”

“Goddammit.” Dean checks himself in the rear view mirror before sighing. “I swear I’m not always a pig like this.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Castiel shakes his head with a laugh. “Dean, I have known you for five months now. You are _absolutely_ always a pig like this.” He’s a neat and tidy person with his living space, but the way he eats doesn’t fall under the same category.

The look Dean gives him as they roll to a stop a red light is equally scandalized and hilarious. Castiel can’t help laughing at it as he takes one of the éclairs out of the box. Dean narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t stop him from eating it. The éclair is doughy rather than crumbly and the only real risk is the creamy center. He finishes it without causing even a hint of a mess by the time they pull into the garage.

“And _that_ is how you eat like a normal person.”

Dean rolls his eyes at him as he puts the car in park. He leads the way into the house, going via the front door instead of the garage door so they can hang up their coats easily. Surprisingly, he kicks off his shoes and all but sprints to the kitchen without even removing his coat. Castiel follows at a more sedate pace, taking the time to line both of their boots up on the mat and put his coat on a hook. He checks his pockets to confirm that he does have a hat, scarf, and gloves. If they have their snowball war later, he wants to avoid having to borrow something from Dean.

He finds Dean crouched in front of the oven and looking through the little window on it. “Did you make something?” Castiel places the box of baking on the counter and crouches next to him. On the other side of the oven door is a long baking sheet of pizza. “I thought we were ordering in?”

“I make better pizza than any delivery place in town.” Dean gives Castiel a grin full of pride. “It’s less greasy too and doesn’t cost half as much.”

One half of the pizza is clearly pepperoni and bacon. The other side is ham and pineapple with the addition of red peppers. It is exactly what they had agreed upon to order last night, and now Castiel understands why Dean had wanted to know ahead of time.

The pizza smells absolutely delicious, but Castiel still turns a pout on him. “I can’t believe you made this without me.”

Dean shrugs and stands up. “Well, I do have more dough and ingredients if this isn’t enough to feed us.”

“I can tell you right now that this isn’t going to be enough to feed us.” Castiel stands up too and crosses his arms. “We are both men of large appetites and we agreed upon two large pizzas. What you have there does not equate two large pizzas.”

“Looks like we’re gonna make another pizza then.” With an exaggerated sigh, Dean pulls another baking sheet out of the drawer under the stove. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a covered bowl, a block of cheese, and a squeeze bottle of pizza sauce. “I don’t have any more cooked bacon, but there’s some pepperoni and ham left over.” He pulls ingredients out as he lists them. “There’s still more peppers, but no more pineapple because I totally snacked on it while I was making the first one. What else can we put on this?”

Castiel steps up behind Dean and leans forward to look over his shoulder. He takes extra care to not lean against him as he checks the contents of the fridge. “Do you have mushrooms or tomatoes?”

“I have both!” Dean pulls open the vegetable drawer and hands them both over his shoulder so Castiel can put them on the counter. “Is that enough stuff?”

“I think so. We should be able to make something good out of all of this.” He’s actually looking forward to making a pizza with Dean and he rolls up his sleeves. “Shall we get started?”

The first pizza is done before they even finish putting together the second. Once the second is in the oven and they’ve plated their slices from the first, they migrate to the living room to make themselves comfortable for watching the rest of the show. Castiel has actually been looking forward to seeing the rest of Firefly. It’s a very interesting show and he is still disappointed to know that it was cancelled.

As soon as they sit down, Dean picks up one of the remotes on the coffee table. The other remote is framing a tall glass along with the Kindle from his birthday. Castiel eyes up the glass, and more specifically at how it is being used as an impromptu vase for a bouquet of origami flowers. Dean is pointedly not looking at them, and he doesn’t acknowledge when Castiel looks between him and the flowers a few times.

Would it be egotistical of him to assume at these are for him? They saw each other yesterday during the coffee pick up, but Dean didn’t give him anything then. Since he didn’t get origami yesterday, and he hasn’t yet been giving one today, logic would dictate that _this_ origami would be for him. But these could also easily just be decoration and Castiel doesn’t want to ask.

Dean clears his throat as he starts scrolling through the DVD menu to find the next episode they should watch. He glances at Castiel out of the corner of his eye a few times before gesturing the remote at that the flowers. “Yeah, those are for you.”

Even though he had his suspicions, Castiel is still pleasantly surprised. What might be more surprising than that is Dean’s blush. He rubs fidgets by plucking a piece of pepperoni from his pizza. “It’s your origami thing and not a Valentine’s thing. It’s not –” Dean makes a noise in his throat and ducks his head. “It’s not a _date_ thing. I made a bouquet because I thought it would be cute, but it’s doesn’t – it’s not a _thing_ kind of thing, okay?”

Castiel could have stopped him sooner, but he’s adorable when he gets flustered and he didn’t want to do that quite yet. He puts his plate down and picks up the bouquet. The stems are composed of ribbon wrapped around wire and he can feel the hard lines of glue keeping it together. “So this is why you need my glue gun?”

He nods, but stuffs pizza in his mouth instead of answering. Castiel smiles and traces the edges of one the flowers. “These are lovely, Dean. Thank you.”

The pizza isn’t enough to hide Dean’s smile or how his blush grows darker. “If you think they’re weird or something, I can just make you something else. It’s not a big deal, or any–”

“I don’t think it’s a big deal, Dean.” Castiel leans forward to put the bouquet back in the glass for safe keeping. “I like them.” Even though the flowers aren’t supposed to be related to Valentine’s Day, he still wishes that he had something to give him in return.

Rather than start the episode, Dean twists in his spot to face him. “I just want you to know that I _really_ don’t want this to come across as some kind of date or that I’m making you uncomfortable or something. If I was spending today with Jo or Charlie, I would’ve done the same.” He pauses and snorts a laugh. “Actually I would’ve given them _real_ flowers. Origami is just a thing for you and me. But yeah, I don’t want you thinking that I think this is a date.”

“It’s fine, Dean.” A warm tingle tickles from the top of Castiel’s head to the tip of his toes. There’s just something _nice_ about knowing that they share something that Dean doesn’t share with anyone else. That tingle takes the blame for what Castiel says next: “I don’t consider it a date any more than you do, and I wouldn’t even mind if we _did_ call it that.”

He picks up his pizza and takes a bite of it before he realizes what he actually just said. Castiel pauses while chewing and turns slowly, colour already starting to burn his cheeks. Dean’s mouth has dropped open and his eyebrows have jumped halfway up his forehead. His jaw works a few times until he manages to get out a single confused sound.

Castiel finishes chewing as slowly as he can, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to explain away what he just said. It’s true that he _wouldn’t_ mind if this was a date, but he also knows that it really shouldn’t be. He can’t date Dean without putting him at risk and he cares too much for him to do that. It would hurt them both if the coven ever found him and he had to run and he’d rather that it only hurt _him_ – which is what will happen once Dean’s feelings for him have waned to purely platonic.

Once he swallows his bite of pizza, Castiel shrugs. It comes out as nothing more than a stiff twitch of his shoulder. He doesn’t look nearly as nonchalant as he wants to be, but he takes another bite of pizza and turns away. “I’m just saying that if this really _was_ a date, I wouldn’t be bothered by it.”

“But you – but we –” Dean makes a few gestures with his hands before he drops them. “R-really?”

The _hope_ in that question makes Castiel’s heart break. That only confirms for him that Dean does still have feelings for him, and it will only make this harder than it needs to be. He takes a deep breath and twists the plate in his hands, looking at it instead of at Dean. “If this were a date, it –” He clears his throat. “It would be a very nice first date.”

Cooking with Dean is always fun, and he’s very much looking forward to seeing the rest of Firefly and Serenity. He knows, without a doubt, that they’re going to have plenty more for between now and when Dean takes him home – especially if they have the snowball battle later.

In his peripheral vision, Dean leans forward. His voice contains all the hope Castiel doesn’t want to see on his face. “F-first?”

“Well, I’ve never been on a date before.” Castiel turns a small smile on him, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “So, yes, if this were a date it would be my first date.”

Dean looks away and chews on his bottom lip for a moment. He drums his fingers on the edge of his plate before he look at Castiel again. “Then – then maybe this could maybe be a practice date for you?”

Calling it _practice_ makes Castiel’s stomach sour. If they were going to have a date, he would rather that it be a real one. He picks a piece of pineapple off his pizza slice. “It can be a real date, Dean. I don’t mind.” Castiel looks up at him, knowing that this is a bad idea yet doing nothing to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “Do you?”

He pops the pineapple piece into his mouth and chews on that as Dean considers his idea. Castiel doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable either, but his suggestion just might. As far as Dean should know, Castiel has rejected his feelings. His agreement in calling their evening a date wouldn’t change that, would it? Would this give Dean hope? He doesn’t want to give him that for something that might never actually happen.

After a few moments of silence, Dean shakes his head sharply. He breaks out into a smile so bright that it makes Castiel’s heart ache. “No, no, no. I would be _more_ than okay with that!” Dean holds up both hands in innocence. “I mean, I know that we’re not actually dating and I don’t expect anything of this, but if you want to call it a date, then I’m okay with that too.”

Castiel nods and settles back against the couch. “Then I should tell you that I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Dean snorts a laugh and takes a bite so big that it’s essentially half his slice of pizza. His smile doesn’t fade at all as he starts the episode and makes himself comfortable on his end of the couch. He honestly looks _happy_ and Castiel wishes he could be that happy too. Part of him _is_ happy, but he can’t be truly happy because this is a date that isn’t _really_ a date. Castiel wishes that he had just kept his mouth shut and let this continue not being a date. That way he wouldn’t be sitting here hating himself for giving Dean even just a little bit of hope.

Regardless, there is one truth that isn’t changed by anything. Castiel absolutely _cannot_ tell Gabriel about tonight. It’s already bad enough that he knows about Castiel’s feelings for Dean, but he would never hear the end of it if Gabriel knew that this is now a _date_.

_ _

Dean’s heart is hammering hard in his chest and the chill in the air hurts his lungs with every breath he sucks in. It burns, but it’s the kind of burn that spikes his adrenaline even further. He pushes himself up enough to peek over the edge of his fort, and almost immediately a snowball whiffs right past the top of his head. His face gets peppered with flecks of snow as it comes apart from the force of being thrown and he ducks back down with a swear.

Of all things, Dean did _not_ expect Cas to have wicked aim. It’s almost a little unfair about how much strength he’s putting into every throw. Dean’s leg still stings from when he got pegged while trying to pull a flanking maneuver as Cas was rebuilding his arsenal. They’ve been more or less at a stalemate for the majority of this little snowball war, and it’s been half an hour _at least_ since they started.

Instead of just throwing snowballs at each other until one of them gives in, Cas had actually suggested a capture the flag type thing. That led them to shoving the ice breaking shovel into the snow in the center of the yard. Their flag is actually a dish towel and it’s hanging through the hole at the end of the shovel. It’s an equal distance between both snow forts and the shovel, but it might as well be the moon for how difficult it is to get to it.

Every since Sam helped him build the forts, Dean has spent time bringing snow from the driveway to help build extra mounds to hide behind. It’s not much, but at least it offers _some_ protection while they’re trying to get the flag. As the usual rules go, to win they have to gets the flag first and take it all the way back behind the safety wall of their fort without getting hit with a snowball. It’s not an easy thing to do considering they’re both a pretty good show.

Cas _almost_ one once, but Dean nailed him between the shoulders on his run back to his fort. The grumpy frown he had when he had to put the flag back and then ‘ _respawn_ ’ in his fort was well worth him getting it in the first place. It was fucking _adorable_ and Dean is half tempted to let him get it again just so he can see it again. Or maybe he’ll just let him win so this can be over. They’ve been at it for half an hour and he’s already sweated through his t-shirt. There’s a sweater to go before it reaches his coat and he’d rather not let that happen. Last thing he needs is a winter coat that reeks of sweat.

And that means he should stop being a sissy and actually make a push towards that flag. Dean puts that plan into motion by grabbing as many snowballs as he can tuck into the crook of his arm. He lobs one blindly over the top of his before making a mad dash to the next nearest hiding spot, hoping like hell that the first was enough to distract him. Of course it doesn’t, but Cas misses the two that he throws.

“Give up, Dean!” Cas arcs another through the air and it lands with a thump a few inches from Dean’s foot. “You’re not going to make it!”

“You can take my life, but you can never take my freedom!” Dean throws the _Braveheart_ quote in his best Scottish accent as he lays down some cover fire. 

It works and he makes it to the next safe space. The flag is in reach, but it requires having to leave the safety of the mound. He could do that, but the only problem is that Cas is also mobile and he might very well be on his way. Dean has limited munitions outside of his base and this is _not_ a good scenario. Time is of the essence and he starts the mental countdown as he throws the last of his snowballs to give himself the chance to actually grab the flag.

He yanks it off the shovel only moments before getting beaned in the face with a snowball. Stars explode behind his eyes and he drops like a sack of bricks. In what feels like an instant, Cas is kneeling over him, his scarf pulled down and concern on his face.

Cas swears under his breath and gently touches Dean’s cheek. “Please tell me I didn’t break your nose.”

Dean isn’t the best judge right now, but he thinks they’re safe on that count. “You did not break my nose.” He scrunches his face up and winces at the ache. “I think.”

“It doesn’t _look_ broken.” Cas touches it gently, but there’s no pain from that. “You _are_ bleeding, however. I think we should take you inside.” Dean lifts a hand to his face to check for the blood, but Cas stops him. Instead, he puts the dish towel to his nose. “This will work better than your glove.”

Good point. “Thanks.” Dean sits up with a grunt, only feeling slightly dizzy while doing so.

Cas grabs him under the arm and slowly helps him to his feet. “I think we’re done for the day.”

“Aw man.” Dean’s pout is probably hidden behind the towel, but he looks at Cas with it anyway. “We can’t be done yet! I didn’t _win_.”

“You were never going to win.” An amused smile tilts Cas’s lips as he shakes his head.

Dean huffs and wobbles slightly on his feet. “Yeah, well, neither were you.”

“You’re right.” Cas nods and pulls one of Dean’s arms over his shoulder; the other circling around his waist. “It was going to be a stalemate.”

“Until next time.” He adds, not even complaining that Cas thinks he needs help walking to the back door. The longer he’s upright, the better he feels, so Dean could have probably managed this just fine. “Next time I’m totally going to kick your ass.”

Cas rolls his eyes and starts walking him forward. “You want to do this again?”

“I could do without the snowball to the face, but yeah.” Dean laughs and that makes his head hurt a little more than needed. “We should totally make this a weekend thing until one of us is crowned king.”

“That’s just the blood loss talking.” Cas shakes his head, but he’s smiling and that’s a plus in Dean’s books. He _really_ likes it when Cas smiles. “This is the first time I’ve had a snowball fight since I was a child, and it was fun, but I don’t think I want to do this _all_ the time.” He tilts that smile in Dean’s direction and it makes his heart flutter something awful. “I may be resistant to the cold, but that doesn’t mean that I actually like it.”

All Dean can manage in answer is a soft little whine and he’s honestly not sure exactly what it’s about. It could be because Cas said no to the ongoing war, or it could be because he’s not allowed to kiss that goddamn smile. It’s anyone’s guess at this point and he’s going to blame it on the blood loss. Far as he knows, it’s not a whole lot of blood on the towel, but he’s feeling woozy enough by the time they get into the house that Cas makes him sit at the kitchen island with his head back.

“Let me see it.” His glasses have fogged up and he places them on the counter. Cas carefully guides Dean’s hand back and peels the towel away. The wince he makes does not inspire confidence, but Dean is way too distracted by how awesome Cas looks without glasses. He looks great with them too, but it’s so rare that he gets to see him without them that this feels a little bit disorienting and amazing all at the same time.

Cas tilts his head while peeking under the towel. “Should we ice your face?”

“I’m pretty sure ice caused this in the first place.”

The insulted huff is well worth Cas shoving his hand and towel back into place with a little more force than necessary. “I didn’t make _ice_ balls. I made _snow_ balls, thank you very much.” He storms off to the fridge and Dean hears him banging around in the freezer drawer. “We made it quite clear that the use of ice was against the rules.”

After a few moments, he reappears at his side with a handful of ice. He takes the bloodied towel and wraps the ice in it before applying it to Dean’s face again. “Use this so you don’t stain another towel.”

Cas is taking such good care of him and Dean would swoon if he didn’t have the island against his back to keep him upright. He turns his head enough to watch as Cas fetches a box of tissues from one of the side tables in the living room and brings them back.

“Here.” He pulls a tissue out and starts ripping it into long strands. “Use these to plug your nose.”

Dean sniffles before putting the rolled up tissue strips into nuggets and grimaces at the taste of blood in the back of his throat. Now the towel is going to be for icing only. He gingerly touches it back to his nose and Cas frowns at it.

“I really am sorry.” Cas reaches up to touch his cheek again but takes his hand back before he actually does. “I didn’t mean to hit you in the face. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

For a moment, he briefly entertains the idea of asking for him to kiss it better, but Dean isn’t that dumb. Besides, Cas said that he doesn’t kiss on the first date and this is only sort of a date. If he asked for one like this, that might make things awkward and they really don’t need any more of that when they’re hanging out together.

“How about I make some hot chocolate and we can watch Serenity?” They had decided to take a break for the snowball fight before tackling the movie. It’s already pretty late and Dean is getting tired. He slept half the day and only got up only a few hours before he had to go pick Cas up.

“You stay where you are.” Cas pats him on the shoulder as he goes around the island to check the water in the kettle. “ _I_ will make the hot chocolate.” He fills the kettle up before flipping the switch to turn it on. “Just tell me where everything is.”

Tonight is going to be the death of him because Cas is fucking _adorable_. He’s going to make him _hot chocolate_ and they’re going to curl up and watch a movie together while they’re on a _date_ and Dean is going to absolutely freaking _die_.

“The packets are in the cupboard, and don’t forget to grab the mini marshmallows. If you forget those, we can’t be friends anymore.” Dean points and Cas rolls his eyes before going straight to it. “Just dump them into the mugs. Those are in the – Yeah, that one.” He nods as Cas opens another cupboard. He must’ve been paying attention when Dean got glasses for their earlier drinks. “Pour in about three-quarters of a cup of hot water while stirring and top it off with milk until the mug is full.”

Cas does as he’s directed and pours the water once the kettle switches off. He turns and shakes the bag of marshmallows at Dean. “How many of these am I supposed to put in?”

“A minimum of _five_ per mug. Any less than that and you’re being stingy.”

“And is that cause to no longer be my friend?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

Dean keeps his expression as serious as he possibly can with blood caked on its lower half and a dripping towel held to it. “Yes, that is exactly it.”

Cas snorts a laugh, but he counts out exactly five marshmallows. He’s so fucking _literal_ when it comes to taking orders and Dean tries really hard not to laugh – if only because it makes his head hurt. Cas sprinkles the marshmallows into the mugs before turning to him with both in hand. “I must confess, I’ve never had marshmallows in my hot chocolate.”

“Then you’ve never really lived.” Dean stands up and he’s proud of himself for not staggering. “Once you have them in your hot chocolate, you’ll never have it any other way.” He grins and points towards the living room. “Go wait for me. I’m just going to clean up first.”

“If you need my help, let me know.” Cas nods and takes their mugs to the living room.

Dean ducks into the bathroom not to use the can but to check his poor face. He checks himself out in the mirror and breathes a sigh of relief. Nothing looks or feels broken, but his nose is pretty red. It took the brunt of the snowball. The tissue plugs are red at the ends and Dean pulls them out. When no blood follows it, he figures it should be safe enough not to have to wear them again.

He dumps the ice in the sink and rinses the towel as best he can. With one of the wet edges, he cleans the drying blood off the rest of his face. It got as far as his chin in places and it doesn’t look even remotely as badass on him as it does all the action heroes in the movies. Hollywood has lied to him and Dean is just maybe a little bit disappointed.

Once he’s decent, he heads out to the living room. Cas is waiting for him on the couch, curled up at his end of it. He looks up from sipping at his hot chocolate. “The stuff we make at the café is better, but this is passable.”

“I’m not going to argue with you on that.” Dean laughs as he changes out the DVDs. Granted, he’s never actually had one of the hot chocolates from _The Graveyard Shift_ , but he doesn’t doubt that it’s probably delicious. He’s never had something from there that he didn’t enjoy.

When he sits down, Cas uncurls and reaches over to touch his cheek again. “How is your face feeling?” His thumb drags over Dean’s cheekbone for a moment before he yanks his hand back. He ducks his head and raises his mug to his lips. “Sorry.”

Dean shrugs and scoops up the remote, trying not to blush like a goddamn fool. Cas keeps _touching_ him and it’s doing all sorts of things to his insides. “It’s okay. A little numb from the ice, but it’s not really sore anymore.”

Cas hums and takes a sip from his mug, but he makes no indication that he’s going to say anything else. Dean figures that’s as good a sign as ever to start the movie. He makes it through the opening scene before clearing his throat. “Hey, Cas?”

This time he actually looks at him. Even though he has his glasses on again, being pinned under Cas’s gaze is always heart stopping. Dean swallows around the nervous lump that rises in his throat. “We could – I mean – Y’know, people who are familiar with each other usually – uh – sit closer together when they’re on a date.”

Those too blue eyes narrow at him and that stare just gets all the more intense. After a minute, Cas arches one eyebrow. “Are you asking me to _cuddle_ , Dean?”

Oh dear God. Putting it into words is not good for his health. He can feel himself heating up under his collar and it’s going to show on his face in no time. Dean ducks his head with a shrug and turns away. “I guess? I figured that I would point that out if you want the tried and true dating experience here.”

He tries really hard not to get his hopes up, but he’s still a little disappointed when Cas shifts in his seat and draws his knees up to his chest. “I – I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

In all honesty, it kinda sounds like Cas regrets saying that. Whatever it might be, Dean totally agrees because he one hundred percent regrets that he even suggested it in the first place. Of course he keeps that out of his voice when he forces a small. “Don’t worry about it. I just thought you’d like to know that it’s totally an option.”

Cas doesn’t look away from the TV, but he does nod. “Maybe. We can – We’ll talk about it next time.”

That’s good. That – that’s _really_ fucking good. Dean’s mouth goes dry and his heart speeds up to hummingbird levels. “Are you just saying that, or – I mean – do you really meant that you’d want to do this again?”

With a sigh, Cas lowers his mug and tilts his head to give him a side glance. “Yes, I would like to hang out with you again.” He looks away to stare into the contents of his mug. “But I’m not sure about calling it a date. This has been an enjoyable evening, but –”

Dean lifts a hand to cut him off. “It’s okay, Cas. I get it.” This was already weird enough that they called it a date in the first place even though Cas doesn’t like him like that.

Cas’s shoulders relax a little bit and his smile definitely eases into something more natural. Dean breathes a sigh of relief and grabs the box of baking Cas brought from the coffee table. He puts it between them and they both take something from it to nibble on while they watch the movie. They rewind it back a few minutes so Cas gets the full effect of everything they were talking over. It’s the kind of movie where Dean doesn’t want him to miss a single thing.

*

Ten minutes. Cas has been ranting for _ten minutes_ about the ending of the movie. He liked it, of course, but there are certain things that he isn’t happy about. Sudden, heartbreaking things. _I’m a leaf on the wind_ kind of things. Dean lets him rant while he tidies up the living room and kitchen, knowing that everyone needs this moment after an ending like that.

It’s past midnight now and Dean is fucking _exhausted_ , but he doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s trying to urge Cas out the door or anything. By all rights, he should be in bed right now, but the only way he could do that is if Cas was going to walk home or join him. One of those isn’t an option, and there’s no way Dean is going to allow _any_ of his friends to walk home in the middle of winter and especially this late at night.

By some miracle, Cas must be able to read his thoughts. He doesn’t need any prompting at all to put his coat on once they’ve finished cleaning up. Dean doesn’t even need to remind him to take his origami bouquet with him. Cas picks that up with the reverence one would expect if they were made out of glass and he holds it like that all the way back to the café.

Their drive consists of a discussion about what should or should not have been done throughout Firefly and Serenity, and what their wish list would consist of. It’s a good conversation, even if Dean has had it a few times in his life. First when Charlie introduced him to the show, and again when he brought Sam in on it too. Sam’s not even remotely as much of a geek about these kinds of things as Dean is, but he sometimes likes them – as Firefly proved.

Dean parks in the front of the café, fully expecting Cas to just say his goodbyes and take off. Instead, Cas turns in his seat and fidgets with the bouquet. He takes a few moments before he actually speaks. “Thank you for tonight, Dean. It was fun and I – I enjoyed our _date_. This has been my favourite Valentine’s Day.”

“Any time, Cas.” Dean puts on his best smile to mask just how much he would fucking _love_ to ‘date’ Cas again. “You know I’m more than happy to be your date tester.”

If anything, that makes Cas’s smile fall slightly, but at least he’s still smiling. They have an awkward kind of side-hug thing before he gets out of the car and Dean has to really fight back against the urge to try and kiss him again. That fucked things up a lot last time and he’s not going to make that mistake a second time. Even if he really, _really_ wants to. They did just have a ‘date’ tonight, after all. And that’s something he’s going to tell to the first person who will listen as soon as he gets home.

Jo is working tonight and Charlie said she wasn’t coming back, but there’s still Sam to talk with. He said he was going to go out with a bunch of friends tonight because he didn’t have the cojones to ask Jess out yet. Sam _insists_ that he’s going to do it one day, but it’s been months and he hasn’t done it yet so what the hell? Even _Dean_ made a move before he did.

The weirdest thing about their hug goodbye is that Dean is almost _positive_ that Cas lingers a little longer than he should. He pulls back with one more quiet thank you and a goodbye before he slips out of the car. Cas waves from the door of the café before he heads inside and Dean waits until he’s out of sight before he drops his forehead against the steering wheel. Now that he’s alone, he allows himself one very loud, very confused groan.

Tonight was fucking _awesome_ , but it’s left Dean way more confused than when he woke up this afternoon. Once Cas rejected him, he thought that he would stop feeling like this. But all tonight has done is leave him feeling really fucking conflicted. Like, really, what in the world is he supposed to think when Cas actually okayed a _date_ of all things? It was only a few weeks ago when he made it clear that he doesn’t have feelings for Dean. So, really, what the fuck was up with tonight?

Is he – was he just oblivious to what something like tonight would do to Dean? Or did he – does he know exactly what he was doing and – and what? Is there an end game here or –? Dean doesn’t have the first fucking clue, but he does have a lot of questions. So many questions. And yet, somehow, he’s supposed to go to bed and sleep soundly with all these thought in his goddamn head.

Fantastic.

**_Tuesday – February 16 th, 2016_ **

Dean rests his elbows on the table and narrows his eyes over the top of his cards. It’s just Uno, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let this bunch of bastards beat him. Uriel is as stone faced as ever, but Meg has the smuggest smile on her face as she waits for Charlie to make her play. None of them are paying attention to Dean and he’s _very_ happy about that. The teasing he got yesterday from Charlie for his date-not-a-date on Valentine’s Day was unending, merciless, and not even remotely helpful in sorting through his feelings.

To be fair, Charlie _has_ admitted that she doesn’t have any advice to give him. Well, she doesn’t have anything _helpful_ to tell him. Of course, that’s subjective. The only advice she gave him was to get over Cas by finding someone else, and that’s not really something he can do right now. It’s hard enough meeting new people for him and his social circles don’t really include anyone that he’d consider a viable subject to replace the fucking _massive_ crush he has on Cas.

A wicked smile spreads across Charlie’s face and he focuses his attention on her right now. She laughs and drops a pair of twos. “Pick up four, Meg.”

“You _bitch_.” She hisses and points at the pile. “You can’t stack like that!”

“And yet, I just did.” Charlie sticks her tongue out at her. “What’cha gonna do about it, huh?”

For a moment, Meg glares at her, but it only lasts for a second. With a matching evil grin, she throws down the two of hearts and turns to Dean. “Pick up _six_.”

“Oh. Oh, _wow_.” Dean sits back and puts a hand over his heart, playing up the shock. “I see how it is.” He glares at the both of them while he picks up six cards, adding to the seven he already has in his hands – the most out of everyone at the table because apparently he’s absolutely _terrible_ at this game.

Uriel doesn’t say a word as he  drops a seven of hearts on top of the two. Charlie’s smile falls into a frown as she glances between the pile in the center of the table and the cards in her hand. She sighs, eventually having to draw another card, and then another, and then _another_. The rules they’re playing with tonight require drawing until you can play.

When she finally draws a card she can play, she throws the seven of spades down and looks up to catch Dean’s attention. “Hey, you know what we should do this Saturday?”

“Sleep?” He shrugs and watches as Meg plays the three of spades. “I work on Friday and after this last weekend, I’m going to fucking _sleep_.” And maybe play some video games. Just relax and not do anything. That’s his goal for the weekend.

“I meant in the _evening_ , smartass.”

Meg huffs and starts tapping her finger on the table as Dean examines and rearranges his cards to see what he can play. “I hope you guys know that it’s _rude_ to make plans in front of other people.”

“Oh, _hush_.” Charlie sticks her tongue out at her again, because she’s on such _good_ terms with Meg, apparently. She looks to Dean again as he throws down the king of spades. “We should go to the club.”

Is it possible to be excited and dreading something at the same time? The club sounds like a good idea, in that it would give Dean a chance to work on his flirting with the same sex, and maybe find someone that he can either fool around with or get to know better. That would help with getting over Cas and the confusing as fuck situation that they’re in. On the other hand, Dean _really_ wants to sleep this weekend and he doesn’t really want to drive all the way to Burlington to spend a few hours being a designated driver in a crowd full of drinking and dancing people.

“What about your date from Valentine’s Day?” He looks up from organizing his cards, but only to eyeball the one that Uriel threw down. “Isn’t she going to be upset that you’re going clubbing without her?”

Charlie shrugs and plays another card. “Nah, she won’t care. Turns out that she doesn’t think we really _click_. She liked the sex, so she’d be cool as a friends with benefits type thing, but you know that’s not what I’m about.”

Uriel sighs at the topic and pulls his grumpy face. Meg mimics his expression, but more likely it’s because she has to draw a couple cards before she can play. Dean is kinda siding with Uriel on this, if only because he’s not sure if he wants to go or not.

“You just want me to go so I can drive you.” He throws his own card down and fixes Charlie with a squint. It’s more teasing than anything, and she figures that out in no time flat.

“Dang!” She leans back in her chair and places an arm over her eyes. “You’ve seen through my dastardly plan! What _ever_ shall I do?”

Their giggling falls quiet the moment Uriel clears his throat to add his two cents to the conversation; “You should go.” Even Meg looks surprised and they all look to him sharply. He shrugs and leans back in his chair. “You should go because Nick says he’s sick of you mooning over the barista that turned you down. You should go and get over him.”

Meg snorts a laugh and points at him. “You’re just saying that because you’re sick of Nick.”

“You have _no_ idea.”

They all get a good laugh out of that – even Uriel, which is surprising. His deadpan humour can be funny sometimes, but he doesn’t often join in when actual laughter happens. The relaxed mood around the table spurs Charlie into being more inclusive than she normally is when it comes to plan making.

She looks back and forth between Uriel and Meg; eyes bright and hopeful. “DO you guys want to come with us?”

Uriel is a hard no, and that’s no surprise there, but Meg actually looks like she’s considering it. A few moments later, her face falls. “Nah. I’m working.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.” And yet, Charlie doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful. Instead she looks back to Dean, her face the perfect picture of a pleading puppy. “Please, _please_ , can we go?”

He doesn’t want to, yet he does want to and it takes him a good few minutes and several card rounds before he can makes a decision. “Yeah, fine. Uriel has a point.”

Valentine’s Day ‘date’ or not, he and Cas aren’t anything more than friends. And, as far as he knows, they’re never going to anything different than that. That’s all fine and good and all, and he _is_ happy being Cas’s friend, but he can only put up with the pining ache behind his ribs for so long. One day he’s going to have to learn to get over Cas, and this weekend might as well be the first step towards achieving that goal.

That being said, Dean really needs to learn to take his own advice. It’s not more than a handful of hours later when he makes what could be a very good, or a very bad decision. It happens while he’s leaning against the counter getting the nightly coffee. He and Cas are chatting like normal while the coffee is getting put in the tray, but it’s Cas who accidentally steers the conversation in the direction that later makes Dean want to bury himself in a hole.

It starts with a usual topic for them.

“Would you like to come over this Saturday?” Cas asks while ducking down to get a dragon for Dean’s coffee cup. “Gabriel picked up a new board game that I thought we could try.”

As if Dean would ever say no to spending time with him – which is part of his problem, really. “How about on Sunday? Charlie and I are going to Burlington on Saturday.”

“Oh, really?” Cas glances up briefly as he starts tying the dragon to the cup. “What for?”

“There’s a gay club that we go to from time to time.” Dean shrugs and lays a few bills on the counter to pay for his order. “She’s on the prowl and, as her wingman, I am required to go.”

Cas’s hands pause in the middle of tying the knot in the thread holding the dragon in place. His fingers twitch slightly and it’s a few moments longer before he actually looks up. “Am I correct in assuming that she – that Charlie will also be playing the part of _your_ wingman?”

There’s something wrong with his voice. It’s too tight – too wooden. He’s purposefully keeping emotion out of it and that’s a little bit unsettling. His eyes are intense too, staring him down with something that Dean doesn’t wholly understand.

 “Yeah, probably.” He can’t look away; trying hard to figure out what in the hell Cas is getting at with a question like that. There’s something behind it and Dean can only think of one thing to say to check it.  “You wanna come with us?”

And _that_ is probably the stupidest thing he could have possibly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_** ** _

**_Tuesday – February 16 th, 2016_ **

The chimes ring above the door as Dean leaves, but Castiel waits a few seconds longer once he’s out of sight before he collapses into a crouch. His hands shake slightly but remain holding the edge of the counter as he rests his forehead against it. Each breath feels like a struggle, but he forces them to remain even in a vain attempt to keep himself calm. It’s difficult to attain when his mind won’t stop cursing him out for being a complete and utter _idiot_.

What in the world was he _thinking_? It’s one thing to go to Dean’s house to hang out, or for a party full of people that at least one of them knows. A club full of strangers in a city he doesn’t know is another thing entirely. There are so many terrifying unknowns about going to a club with Dean, and yet – for some Godforsaken reason – Castiel said _yes_. There is no reason, whatsoever, that he should have agreed to go but now he’s drowning in a wave of panic and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Castiel agreed to go before he even realized what he was doing. It wasn’t until Dean had flashed him a smile brighter than the sun and promised to send him details later that it occurred to him. Now he’s either going to have to disappoint Dean by backing out, have a panic attack so strong that it kills him, or sucks it up and actually go to the club with him and Charlie. At this point, Castiel doesn’t know which option is the best to go with.

Likely the worst thing about all of this is that hideous oil slick of _jealousy_ burning in his chest. He is more than ready to blame _that_ for why he agreed to go. The longer he stares at the floor, the more time he has to think about it, and the dark side of him that he hates is entirely the reason why he is going. IF Castiel is at the club, then Dean will pay attention to _him_ and he will most definitely not be flirting with anyone else. It’s a disgusting reason to want to go and he utterly loathes himself for it.

Yet another tally mark falls into the column of pros for why he should be trying to _distance_ himself from Dean. If they could just get over each other, then there would be nothing for him to be jealous over. Then he wouldn’t feel like he’s going to throw up for multiple reason. Then he wouldn’t be practicing breathing techniques to keep himself from hyperventilating in the middle of his work shift. This is just the _worst_ and he really should have asked to have a chance to think about it first – or just said _no_ and not let his stupid _emotions_ get in the way.

“Dear Lord, Cassie.” Balthazar’s voice interrupts his thoughts and he has never been more grateful, nor more irritated, by it than he is right now. “What’s wrong? Do you have an upset tummy?” His shoes walk into Castiel’s field of view and he crouches, a hand touching gently between his shoulder blades. “Do you want me to rub it? I can even kiss it better, you know.”

Truthfully, he actually forgot that Balthazar was here right now. A growl rumbles in his throat and the hand on his back disappears. Balthazar laughs and tilts his head into view. “I know Dean was here. Did something happen with him?”

Castiel groans and closes his eyes. Instead of leaving, Balthazar just pats him on the shoulder. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Your answer will determine whether or not I chase him down and turn his mind inside out.”

“ _Don’t_ touch him.” Another growl rolls through Castiel’s chest and he turns his head just enough to fix him with a glare. “It’s nothing that _Dean_ did.”

Balthazar raises an eyebrow and a curious, teasing smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Ah, then it’s something that _you_ did?” Even his wings twitch upward, already starting to vibrate in the way they do when he’s particularly interested in something.

“Yes.” He sighs and thumps his forehead against the edge of the counter. “I did something stupid because I’m an _idiot_.”

“What did you do?” The hand on his shoulder pats again, and Castiel has no idea how he manages to make it feel mocking. “You can tell big brother Balthazar everything.”

At any other time, Castiel would absolutely reserve this kind of conversation for his _actual_ big brother. However, Gabriel also happens to be the only person in the world right now who knows about his feelings for Dean. He can already tell how that conversation would go, and he has no desire to go through that at any point in the near future. Surprisingly enough, Balthazar _is_ the best person to talk to about this right now.

With a sigh, Castiel lets go of the counter and sits back on his heels. He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them. “I just told Dean that I would go to a gay club in Burlington with him and Charlie this Saturday.”

“I know that club!” Balthazar’s wings create a high pitched buzzing noise as they start shivering even faster. Not quite flapping to fly, but most certainly creating a little bit of a breeze that flutters the receipt pinned next to the register. “It’s great, Cassie. You’ll love it.”

That’s very doubtful, but Castiel still lifts his head. “Why?”

“They have a _very_ strict policy about magic.” Balthazar grins at him, clearly pleased that Castiel is actually giving him the chance to talk. “You can walk in with whatever glamours or wards you have on you, but you absolutely cannot cast a single thing within the walls of the club. They’ve had some _very_ powerful Fae cast protective spells on the whole place.” He spreads his hands with a wink. “That’s why you’ll find plenty of us in there.”

Castiel relaxes slowly, uncurling from his defensive position. “Really?”

“Would I ever lie to you?” Balthazar adopts the most wide-eyed innocent expression that he could possibly have and it just looks _extremely_ out of place on him. Castiel trusts that look about as much as he would trust milk two months past its expiry date. The doubt must show on his face, because Balthazar sighs and drops the expression with a laugh. “I’m serious, Cassie. They run a scan on you when you’re on your way inside to make sure that you’re not carrying any kind of spell bags or whatnot that could be used against other club goers.”

The relief is almost dizzying and Castiel takes a slow, deep breath. “That’s good to hear.”

“I know, right?” Balthazar shrugs and gets to his feet again. “I mean, there’s definitely going to be a ton of loud music and people, and I know those are your favourite, but it’s definitely magic free.” He winks at Castiel with a knowing smile. “And I know that’s how you and Gabe like it.”

After a moment of dusting his pants off of invisible dirt, Balthazar tilts his head to the side and hums. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been there. If you want, I can arrange for some Fae friends and I to go this weekend. That way, if your Dean gets distracted by some other lovely boy booty, then you’ll have me to keep you company.”

Castiel’s stomach sours and an acidic burn fills the back of his throat at the mere _idea_ that someone would take Dean away from him. The self-loathing sets in almost immediately. Dean was never his in the first place and he has no right to feel like this. God, but he misses the days when he _didn’t_ know what _liking_ someone felt like.

He stares at his hands, half hidden in the sleeves of his sweater where they’re folded over his knees. While he does fear that Dean will ditch him for someone else after completing his job as Charlie’s wingman, which is unlikely in any sense, it is rather comforting to know that Balthazar would be there. Despite sometimes being a pain in the ass and too sassy for his own good, he _is_ a good employee. Sometimes, Castiel might even consider him to be a bit of a friend.

“It’ll be fine, Cassie.” Balthazar ruffles his hair before heading back into the kitchen. “After a few cocktails and getting hit on a few times, you’ll relax and have a _ball_ of a time. I promise you.” His footsteps pause at the door. “And I’m going to go even if you don’t.”

His frown is still directed at the floor as Balthazar starts banging around with pulling the bread pans off their storage racks. Castiel forces himself to stand up, but he feels wobbly on his feet. Balthazar has settled most of his worries, but he’s still not completely settled. It’s going to take longer than that short conversation before he’s going to be okay with the idea of going to the club.

All in all, this weekend is going to be _ridiculous_. If it doesn’t happen this Saturday, than one way or another Dean Winchester is probably going to be the death of him.

**_Saturday – February 20 th, 2017_ **

Castiel stares at his fogged reflection in the mirror, blinking through the water dripping from his hair. _The sleep_ and his hot shower have left him feeling _physically_ great, but _mentally_ is an entirely different matter. His plans to go to the club tonight with Dean and Charlie have been weighing on his mind all week and the stress is taking its toll. He feels like _shit_ and the longer he’s awake, the more tense his stomach becomes. As of yet he hasn’t thrown up over this, but the threat is very real.

Nike is curled up on the toilet lid, purring as she watches him have a very quiet, very subtle mental breakdown. He leans his hands on the vanity and drops his head to stare at his phone. The little light is blinking; a reminder that he has an unread message from Dean. It’s likely to confirm what time he’ll be by with Charlie to be pick him up, but Castiel can’t bring himself to look at it yet. He’s not confident that he won’t answer it saying that he won’t be going with them.

There are _so_ many reasons why he shouldn’t go. Castiel has spent all week listing them in his head. He has had ample opportunity to cancel this excursion, and yet he hasn’t. His hand simply refuses to actually pick up the phone and type out the message, or even simply dial Dean’s phone number. It’s curious and annoying, and made all the worse by the fact that the time when he’ll be picked up inches closer and closer.

They’re leaving around eight o’clock, which is apparently earlier in the evening then one might go to a club, purely because it takes over an hour to drive there. Castiel has roughly an hour before Dean and Charlie will be here and he still needs to eat breakfast. He’s been putting it off since he woke up, if only because his stomach feels too tight and uncomfortable to actually accept any food. It’s been clenching and unclenching with his nervous anxiety ever since he finished cleaning his bedroom.

A loud bang on the door breaks him from his downward spiral of thoughts that go nowhere. “Cassie!” Gabriel shouts loud enough that everyone in the café downstairs _must_ be able to hear him. “Cassie, if you don’t come out of there soon, your breakfast is going to go cold!”

Castiel hangs his head with a sigh. Gabriel always makes him a hearty breakfast on the days that he wakes up from _the sleep_. Usually he looks forward to them, so it’s a little sad that his appetite is absent right now. He also has no idea that Castiel is going out tonight. After some thought on Tuesday, he decided that it would be better for his sanity if Gabriel didn’t know about the club. It took some creative bargaining to convince Balthazar not to say anything, but as far as Castiel knows, he’s kept to their deal. Fae are usually notorious for their pacts, but Castiel got it in fine print that all he has to do is buy Balthazar a few drinks tonight to ensure that he kept his tongue all week.

Gabriel is waiting outside the door with his arms crossed and a frown gathered in the corners of his mouth. He takes one look at Castiel’s face, half hidden by the towel draped over his hair to dry it, and all annoyance fades quickly. “Holy shit, Cassie. You look like death. What’s wrong?”

Now is as good a time as any to tell him. With some measure of reservation, Castiel rubs a hand over his face. “I’m – I will be going out tonight.” And hopefully he won’t look so terrible when Dean and Charlie pick him up.

“What?” Gabriel uses a hand on his elbow to lead him to the table and the waiting plate of bacon and eggs. “This is the first I’ve heard of this, young man. Where are you going and who are you going with?” After a moment’s pause, his chastising tone breaks with a laugh. “Never mind. I bet you’re just going to Dean’s place again, huh?”

“Yes, and no.” Castiel sinks into the kitchen chair and stares at his food; the urge to eat nowhere to be found. “I will be hanging out Dean and Charlie, but we won’t be at his house.”

A moment of silence passes before Gabriel drops heavily into the chair next to him. “Enough with the secrecy here. I need a proper explanation.”

This was going to happen eventually, but Castiel still isn’t _quite_ braced for telling him. Regardless, there’s no getting around it. With a heavy sigh he picks up his fork and breaks the yolk on his sunny side up eggs. “They invited me to join them at a gay club in Burlington.”

Gabriel’s chair skitters back across the floor as he stands up sharply. Whether it’s out of shock or excitement has yet to be determined. “And you said _yes_?”

Castiel groans and drops his fork so he can hide his face in his hands. “I _did_.”

“Oh my God, you’re going on a _date_ with Dean!” With a delighted gasp, Gabriel starts clapping his hands and doing some weird dance next to him. Castiel isn’t looking, so he can only guess that’s what’s happening judging by the odd stomping sound.

“It is _not_ a date.” He sighs and lowers his hands, confirming that Gabriel _is_ excitedly jumping from one foot to the other. “Charlie is going to be there.”

His words apparently go in one ear and out the other. Gabriel scoops Nike up and spins around while holding her in the air. “Oh, Nike! Our little Cassie is going on his first date!” He stops suddenly with a gasp and holds her to his chest. “We need to go pick out his outfit!”

This was somewhat expected, but mostly not how he thought Gabriel would react. “I can’t even tell you how much you’re missing the problem here.”

“What problem?” Gabriel shrugs and puts Nike down as she starts to squirm. “I’ll make you some extra charm bags to ward off evil eyes, and you know your pendant will pick up on any magic influenced by demons within at least a mile of you.”

Castiel opens his mouth to refute those points, but nothing comes to mind. Gabriel does have a point with everything there, and it’s just the fear of the unknown that’s making him so nervous. He must be obvious about it, as Gabriel’s smile softens and he catches Castiel’s face between his hands.

“It’ll be fine, Cassie.” He squishes his face between his hands before tapping him on the nose. “You did well at Dean’s party, didn’t you?”

Yes, yes he did. “it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” But that was primarily because Dean was with him the whole time. Even if Balthazar is at the club tonight, what is Castiel going to do if Dean decides to leave him so he can party with someone else who would be more fun than him?

“Don’t worry about it, little bro, everything will be fine.” Gabriel laughs and ruffles his hair with one has as he gives Castiel his fork again with the other. “Now eat up. You’re going to need it for all that booze you’re going to be drinking.”

That statement is fundamentally flawed, but Castiel picks up a piece of bacon to chew on, if only to placate Gabriel. “But I don’t drink.”

“You do sometimes.” He shrugs and starts towards the hallway with a bounce in his step. “Just try a few cocktails tonight and you might change your mind. And I bet the alcohol will help with your nerves at least a little bit.”

Balthazar was the first to tell him that, and he’s said it multiple times this week. However true that might be, Castiel isn’t really considering that an option. He’s had various forms of alcohol in the past, mostly at the prompting of Gabriel, and nothing has tasted good to him. Beer, whiskey, rum, vodka – all of it tasted terrible, even when mixed with a cola of some kind. There is nothing to lead him to believe that there will be anything different about tonight.

And, of course, Gabriel isn’t going to be of any help. He’s always been an advocate for Castiel going out and trying new things. He _wants_ him to spend time with other people; to spread his wings, so to speak. No matter what argument Castiel can manage to come up with, Gabriel is still always going to encourage him to go out. Of course he’s still wary about Witches, and about strangers, but he wants Castiel to actually _experience_ things. It’s understandable, but it’s a bit annoying right now.

His list of reasons to not go out has been quickly dwindling the more time he spends with Dean, but Castiel is sure that his fear of crowds is never going to go away. No matter how often he ends up going to things with Dean, or even with Gabriel or anyone else, crowds and the unknown that can hide from him them will always be terrifying to him. How can he protect himself from being recognized in a crowd if he can’t keep an eye on everyone around him?

With a sigh, he picks up a slice of toast to nibble on. At the very least it might help to settle his stomach. Even the bacon isn’t very appetizing to him right now. A soft paw on his arm reminds him that there is someone else in the room who would happily eat it for him. Nike has taken up residence on the chair next to him, her blue eyes wide and bright as she watches each pathetic bite that he brings to his lips. She opens her mouth in a silent plea and of course he can’t resist her when she looks so sweet. When he gives her some of the bacon, Nike rewards him with a delighted chirrup.

“Your clothes are ready!” And just like that, his moment of peace is once again shattered as Gabriel all but dashes through the kitchen and into the bathroom. He makes quite a ruckus by opening and closing the few cupboards and drawers they have in there. “If you come out of your room wearing anything other than what I picked for you, I’m going to magic your ass to the floor and change them for you.”

Castiel is still fighting to calm his stomach down and he’s in no mood for a fight about anything, least of all clothing. With a sigh, he abandons the rest of his breakfast and returns to his bedroom. He’s not surprised to see that his _tightest_ pair of black jeans is on the bed. Gabriel is the one who bought them when he insisted that Castiel needs to show off his assets more often, and he made sure to stress that the pun was entirely intended. It’s possible that Gabriel has never been more disappointed in him than when he had to actually _explain_ the pun.

Next to the pants is a dark gray button up shirt. Laid over it is one of Castiel’s black vests, and it’s been paired with a bright red tie. That’s quite impressive, considering that he doesn’t _own_ a red tie. In fact, he’s fairly certain that _Gabriel_ is the one who owns that tie. Is he so obsessed with making Castiel look good that he would delve into his own closet to achieve it? Considering how much he used to complain whenever Castiel wore his clothing – back before he grew more than him – that’s quite the big improvement in sharing on Gabriel’s part.

The outfit _does_ look good, and that only makes Castiel glare at it all the harder as he finishes drying off. He doesn’t _want_ to look good. That might draw more attention to him and, frankly speaking, the only person whose attention he wants is Dean’s. Even then, he doesn’t want _that_ kind of attention. The less Dean looks at him with an eye of attraction, the better.

Gabriel is waiting for him in the kitchen again once Castiel is finished getting dressed. He forces him back into his chair before looking him over. “Sometimes it’s not fair how good you look.”

“Just do what you’re going to do so I can go sulk before I have to go.” Castiel sighs and slumps against the back of the chair. “I’m going to need as much time as I can get to prepare myself for this.”

“I’m telling you that you’re worrying too much, Cassie.” Gabriel shakes his head and starts rolling up the sleeves of Castiel’s shirt. “Aside from the whole thing where he likes you, has Dean ever steered you wrong on something like this?”

He doesn’t answer, but Gabriel does have a point. Dean has been very good at finding ways to help calm Castiel down during moments of anxiety. At the New Year’s Eve party, he kept him distracted and removed him from the crowd if he looked like he was getting overwhelmed. When he had that short stint as a part of Dean’s LARPing group, Castiel was certainly nervous, but Dean was purposefully overdramatic to make him feel less self-conscious.

“Now, you listen to me, Cassie.” Gabriel adjusts the tie and briefly cups his face between his palms. “Everything is going to be fine. The most important thing that we need to focus on right now is that you look _good_ for your first date.”

He steps back to spray some foam mousse into his hand. Castiel rolls his eyes as it starts getting worked into his hair. “I told you. This isn’t my first date.” That was last weekend and he couldn’t have asked for a better one. It still makes him feel all tingly thinking about it.

“This is _totally_ a date, Cassie.”

Gabriel sighs with a condescending tone that digs under his skin. He has no intention of telling anyone that they had agreed to it _actually_ being a date, but it does irk him when Gabriel is being stubborn about stupid things. “If going with Dean to a party is a date, then the first would have been the one on New Year’s Eve, would it not?”

After a few moments of humming while he tweaks Castiel’s hair to perfection, Gabriel step backs and looks down at him. “Did you two kiss?”

“You _know_ that we didn’t.” His upper lip curls back with the faintest hint of a growl. Gabriel knows exactly how uncomfortable Castiel had been when Dean drank just a little too much and got carried away with the moment. Regardless of his feelings now, it’s still a sour note for him.

Gabriel shrugs and reaches out to runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Then it wasn’t a date.”

Oh Lord, this is absolutely going to be one of those topics where they’re never going to agree and Castiel is going to choose whether or not to keep arguing or just let it go. He’s not quite ready for that step yet and he crosses his arms. “The occurrence of a kiss does _not_ a date make.”

“This is your first date and you can’t tell me otherwise.” With a laugh, Gabriel taps him on the nose and steps back to admire his hard work.

Castiel waves his hands between them and stands up. “You’re impossible.”

“Excellent!” He claps his hands and a terrible grin spreads wide across his lips. “Now you’re so annoyed with me that you’re not going to want to spend time here with me, so you’re _definitely_ going to go.”

If that was his goal, this was a very weird way to do it. Castiel sticks his tongue out at him before returning to his bedroom. It’s the only safe place he can hide until Dean and Charlie come to get him. He still hasn’t read or answered the text messages waiting for him on his phone. A certain level of courage is going to be needed just to answer the message if he’s going to actually go _out_ tonight. And that – well _that_ is going to be an entirely different matter.

*

“I’m heading out now.” Castiel folds his coat over his arm as he makes his announcement. He’ll put it on once he’s downstairs, because right now he needs something to occupy his hands. “I’ll have my cell phone on vibrate if you need to get a hold of me.”

Gabriel skids into the kitchen with his hands cupped together in front of his chest. “Excellent timing! I just finished the charm bags!” He tucks one into the pocket of Castiel’s jeans and deposits the other two into his free hand. “These are for Charlie and Dean. If they don’t want them, you double up or leave one in Dean’s car, okay?”

Although he was annoyed at him earlier, Castiel is very happy that Gabriel went to all the trouble to put these together for him. “Thank you. If you want me to check in at any point, just text me.”

“You’re a big boy, Cassie.” Gabriel pats him on the shoulder before straightening his tie and the collar of his shirt. “I’m going to trust you to take care of yourself tonight.” After a pause, he drops his arms and offers a small smile. “But if _you_ want to text me every once in awhile to let me know how things are going, then you can. I mean, I’ll be in bed, but you could still do it. If you want to.”

“If I want to.” Castiel nods and a smile of his own surfaces. “I’ve already fed Nike, but she will undoubtedly want some cuddles.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I _guess_ I’ll just have to cater to the princess.”

They both huff a laugh, but neither one of them is feeling all that humorous right now. Gabriel can play it off all he wants, but he’s worried too. Castiel’s heart is like a jackhammer thudding against the cage of his ribs and he’s a little worried he might get light headed if it continues this way. Passing out would, however, be an excellent excuse to not go to the club. Except that he _has_ made up his mind about this and he _will_ go, and if it’s terrible he can just take a cab home or call for Gabriel to come pick him up. There is no doubt in Castiel’s mind that his brother would get out of bed to come get him, no matter how long the drive would be.

After their short goodbyes and a parting scratch behind Nike’s ears, Castiel heads downstairs. Dean notified him via text message that they had arrived a few minutes ago, and he’s not surprised to find them both at the counter. Tessa is preparing a tray with three coffees on it and she flashes him a smile as he enters the room. Castiel nods to her and goes around the edge of the counter to stand with Charlie and Dean. They’re both leaning over the display case; checking out what sweets still remain.

From behind, Dean doesn’t seem to be very dressed up. He’s wearing a leather jacket over his jeans, as he usually does whenever Castiel sees him outside of his work clothes. When he turns around, he gets a flash of black and red at the collar of his coat. Dean’s immediate smile falls as his jaw drops when he notices Castiel behind him. A steady blush rises in his cheeks as he quite obviously looks him over. He only does it for a moment before he shakes his head and snaps his gaze up to meet Castiel’s eyes. The shock is replaced with a sheepish grin.

“Hey, Cas!” Charlie turns around and has a far more normal reaction. “Well, look at you! You’re dressed for the occasion, unlike _some_ people.” She elbows Dean in the side.

“Excuse _you_.” Dean elbows her back with a glare. “I’m dressed just fine, and that little remark is going to cost you the front seat. You’re sitting in the back now, short jack.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and seems completely unaffected by that. She picks up the tray of coffee that Tessa passes over. “Alright, boys. I’ve got the coffee and we’re ready to party. Let’s go!” With a triumphant gesture of one hand, she starts towards the door.

Rather than follow her, Dean’s smile has slipped into a frown of concern. “We’ll be right there. I gotta talk with Cas about something first. Here.”

He turns to toss her the car keys and she catches them one handed. With one final wave to Tessa, Charlie leaves the café to the tune of the chimes above the door. Castiel pauses in the process of pulling his coat on. What in the world could Dean want to talk to him about? It ratchets his general anxiety up a few more levels and he glances worryingly between the door and Dean. That feeling of unease doesn’t lessen any as Dean takes his arm and leads him to the stairs in the corner of the café.

“Hey, Cas, you sure you want to come?” A line of worry creases Dean’s forehead as he places a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you’re not a party person and this thing is probably _way_ outside of your comfort zone.”

Oh dear God, why does he have to be so sweet? Castiel gets just a little weak in the knees from Dean’s kindness and he leans into his hand. “Thank you. This is – It’s like the New Year’s Eve party all over again, but so much _worse_.”

With a soft smile, Dean uses his free hand to straighten the lapels of Castiel’s coat for him. The other remains firm on his shoulder and Castiel finds it strangely grounding. He closes his eyes and focuses on that solid weight. “I want to do this, but at the same time I –”

“Don’t do this because of me.” Dean squeezes his shoulder slightly and his smile is both hopeful and gentle. “Just because I asked doesn’t mean I’m going to be hurt or something if you really don’t want to come. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“I know.” Castiel sighs and shakes his head. “It’s just difficult because I can’t leave the club as easily as I could a party at your house.”

For a moment, a quizzical frown plays over Dean’s lips. It vanishes in a blink. “Dude. You absolutely _can_ leave the club that easily.” He moves to Castiel’s side and slides his arm around his shoulders. “If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll ditch Charlie there to bring you home right away.”

At first that sounds like a good thing, but after a moment’s thought, Castiel frowns. “You can’t just _leave_ her there alone.”

“I totally can.” He laughs, squeezing Castiel’s shoulders and jostling him in the process. “It was Charlie’s idea in the first place.”

It takes a moment for him to actually understand what was said. “What? Really?”

Dean nods and pats Castiel on the back before stepping away. “Pretty much the plan is if you don’t like it, I bring you back here and then go back to get her. As much as I’d love for you to stay, I’m fully prepared to take the hit in the gas tank if this turns out not to be your kinda thing.” He jerks his thumb back towards the door. “The two of us want you to come, but we want you to be comfortable more than anything, got it?”

Castiel mentally adds Charlie’s name to the growing roster of actual _friends_ he has. “I’m touched, Dean. Thank you.” He takes a few steps forward to start them towards the door before he stops. “Wait a moment. Won’t you be drinking? You can’t drive if you’ll be drinking.”

“It’ll be fine, Cas.” Dean waves a hand to dismiss the subject. “I’m only going to have a couple beers or something. Plus I’ve got a full stomach, so I’m good. I went into this knowing I’d be playing the designated driver and I’m happy to do it.”

He’s a little skeptical of that, but Castiel does trust Dean to some degree. With a few deep breaths and a nod, he heads to the door. “Alright, let’s go.” The knowledge that he has an escape if he needs it makes the anxiety of going to a club full of strangers _much_ easier to bear.

“Awesome!” Despite his delight, Dean still catches Castiel by the elbow and brings him to a stop. “Before we go, I’ve got something for you.” He takes something out of his pocket and offers it to Castiel carefully. “I got his pattern off the internet, so it’s not as neat as the ones you make, but I –”

“It’s amazing, Dean.” Castiel cuts him off with a smile as he carefully takes an origami dragon from his outstretched palm. This dragon has a long skinny neck with a match tail, and its wings are carefully bent into a creased pattern. “I love the wings.” They’re certainly a different take than the ones that he makes and already ideas are coming to him on potentially including them in his design. “You’ll have to show me how you made them.”

A blush turns Dean’s face a pleasing shade of red and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, okay.” He clears his throat and ducks past Castiel to the door. “Let’s not get wrapped up in origami right now. Charlie’s waiting for us.”

“I’ll be right there.” Castiel first takes the dragon into the kitchen; leaving it in the employee hutch by the stairs. That’s one of the safest places for it until he returns later tonight.

As he follows Dean out to the car, his mind strays to all the origami nestled together on the shelf in his bedroom. He’s got so many of them now and the only ones Dean has from him are the dragons – and those aren’t even all that special. Most customers have received at least one at this point, especially if they’re recurring customers. It’s starting to feel a little unbalance and Castiel makes a mental note to start making Dean some designs in return. Maybe he can even start them later tonight.

With that to look forward to, he slides into the front seat of the car and crosses his fingers, hoping against hope that he isn’t going to regret tonight.

_ _

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. _Holy shit_.

That’s just about the only thing that Dean’s mind can really come up with now. He’s lucky as all hell that he managed to get any words out when he talked to Cas in the café, because his brain is just completely and utterly hung up on how _good_ he’s looking tonight. Cas actually did something with his hair and everything he’s got on under that ridiculous coat looks fucking amazing. It is legitimately an effort not to outright _drool_ because the sweaters are cute, but the vest and those jeans are just really showing off how nice Cas’s form really is.

Dean is having an insanely hard time keeping his hands to himself. The most he let himself have in the café was shoulder touching, and even that felt like too much. Thank God he’s got Charlie, though. She’s a pain in his ass sometimes, but right now she’s being the Queen that she is. Cas is twisted in his seat to sorta face her while she chats him up; leaning forward with her arms crossed on the back of the bench seat. They’re talking about some kind of book series that Dean hasn’t gotten around to reading yet, but it’s apparently one of Cas’s old favourites, or something.

Whatever it is, Dean is just happy that it’s keeping Cas distracted. He’s not noticing the internal war going on with Dean’s self-control and he definitely seems more relaxed then he did at the café. If Charlie can keep up the conversation, then he won’t worry about the club and that’s good. That’s the greatest thing in the world because Dean has been stressing _all fucking week_ about inviting a homebody like Cas out to a club with music and dancing and drinking and basically everything he doesn’t like doing. It’s not completely Dean’s scene either, but he likes going to support Charlie and it’s fun sometimes to just cut loose and be a little crazy every once in awhile.

It’s when Charlie sighs loudly about halfway through their drive that Dean actually starts paying attention to the conversation. “Y’know, Cas, with you coming along it’s more like I’m a _third wheel_ instead of a wingman.”

She ends with a laugh while making eye contact with Dean in the rear view mirror. He damn near chokes on his next breath and narrows his eyes in a death glare that could rival Cyclops. All Charlie does in grin as she leans back and stretches out in the back seat. “I guess I’ll be cruising on my own tonight while you two hang out.”

Cas frowns and he turns to Dean with the cutest most worried look. It makes him not want to be an ass, but Charlie is well on her way to deserving one hell of an ass whooping. Dean risks all their lives to throw a glare over his shoulder at her. “Don’t be a dick. You were all sorts of excited when I said I invited Cas along too.”

“Oh, I’m _very_ happy he’s here.” She reaches forward to pat Cas on the shoulder a few times. “With you here, Dean has someone to babysit him after I hook up with something tonight. Which I guess I’m going to have to do all on my lonesome now.”

Dean doesn’t have a fucking clue what she’s trying to do here. At first he thought she was trying to hint that he and Cas were a twosome tonight, but now she’s not making much sense. Whatever it is, she had better freaking stop because Cas is looking all kinds of confused and worried, and the poor guy is already in a weird place because of how far he’s going outside of his comfort zone tonight. Quite literally, in fact.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” He sighs and reaches over to pat his knee briefly. “She’s just being silly. We’re just going to have to dedicate ourselves to finding her a pretty lady to keep her company as quick as we can so we get a chance to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

Cas tilts his head to look at Dean over the top of his glasses, his eyes flashing blue in that all too unnatural way as a car passes them going in the opposite direction. “And what would _enjoying ourselves_ entail, exactly?”

Good question. Luckily, Dean has spent literal _hours_ this week thinking up totally non-sexual and completely platonic things they could do together at the club where he wouldn’t accidentally do something to make Cas uncomfortable. But he’d rather die than let anyone know just how much he’s been obsessing over tonight.

With a shrug, Dean huffs a laugh that sounds more nervous than he’d like it to be. “I dunno, dude. We’ll probably find a table, have some drinks, and people watch while we shoot the shit like we usually do, I guess. I mean, we can do whatever we want that you’ll be most comfortable doing.”

“That sounds nice.” A small smile plays in the corner of Cas’s mouth. “And how are we supposed to find Charlie a pretty lady?”

A loud hum from the back seat announces that said pretty lady seeker is ready to join the conversation again. “You’ve gotta find someone single and ready to mingle.” She brings a hand up to level it with the top of her head, though Dean is probably the only one who sees it because of the rear view mirror. “Preferably my height. I’d like a brunette with long hair, if we can get one. But keep in mind that pretty is subjective, so always check with me because Dean and I _do_ have different tastes some times.”

“Liar.” Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. “We both like cute brunettes.”

As soon as the words are out of Dean’s mouth, Cas turns almost his whole body to look out the window. The blush staining the back of his neck is visible even in the dim light of the car, lit only by passing vehicles and the occasional highway street lamp. In truth, Dean was thinking about how big of a crush Charlie had on Lisa when he was dating her back in high school. It didn’t occur to him that Cas is a brunette and at one point or another he has definitely said that he’s cute.

Charlie snorts loudly behind him and Dean glances in the mirror to find her covering her mouth with both hands to keep from all out laughing. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and raises his voice slightly to talk over the level of _awkward_ he can feel settling in the car with them. “ _Anyways_ , we’re just going to scope out someone we think she might like and then we help her break the ice.”

It takes Cas a little longer to actually turn and look at him. When he does, his blush is finally under control and he actually looks at least somewhat intrigued. “How are we going to do that?”

Another excellent question from the mystery man in tight pants. Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel a few times before eventually shrugging. “Oh, I dunno. I’m pretty partial to playing _ha-a-a-a-a-ve you met Charlie_?”

The laughs she was trying to smother erupts sharply. For a solid few minutes, all they hear is Charlie’s giggling until she manages to get it under control. Even then, she sounds pretty winded. “I don’t think any of us are dressed nice enough to pull something from the Playbook of Barney Stinson.”

Cas twists in his seat again. “What is that from?”

“Have you really never –”

“Let me stop you there.” Dean raises his hand to cut her off. “Cas reads, like, a hundred times more things than he does watching TV. It’s safe to assume that if you’ve seen something, then he hasn’t.”

A pout makes Cas’s bottom lip stick out and he crosses his arms with a sulk. “Books are quiet and I keep waking Gabriel up if I watch TV when he’s trying to sleep.”

“Good point and thank you for finding us a way to make the rest of this drive go faster. Charlie, explain to him the ins and outs of _How I Met Your Mother_.”

It’s better than nothing and at least it will be a conversation where Dean will actually be able to participate this time. Which, in hindsight, would probably help him _not_ focus on Cas so much. Maybe.

*

Welp, this is off to a great start. Actually, it’s not half as bad as Dean thought it would be, but Cas is most definitely getting nervous. The closer they got to the door, the closer Cas walked to him. He’s practically pressed up against his side by the time they’re actually _inside_ the club. Not that Dean’s complaining of course, but he had hoped the magic run over at the door would have helped calm Cas down some. Sure, it was a little worrying when they got pulled aside for an examination of those charm bags Gabriel made for them, but that wasn’t a problem in the end because they’re benign charms.

At this point, Cas’s anxiety has most definitely kicked in and Dean is starting to really regret asking him to come. Not because he doesn’t want Cas here, but because he doesn’t want Cas to not have a good time. Right now he’s looking in all directions, eyes wide and darting behind his glasses. He doesn’t look comfortable or happy and there’s nothing Dean can really do for it. The most he can think to do is put his arm around Cas’s shoulders and give them an encouraging squeeze.

Loud music makes the air feel like it’s vibrating around them. It’s only this loud because they’re so close to the dance floor. The best way he can make himself heard is to lean in and practically have his mouth against Cas’s ear. “Hey, you okay?”

Cas takes a deep breath, but the smile he turns to him is one hundred percent forced. “Yes.”

Dean has his doubts, but what can he do? Turn Cas around and march him out of here? Cas _wants_ to be here, or so he’s said. He wants to try and leaving within a few minutes of getting here isn’t much of an attempt. Dean will give it half an hour. If Cas still looks like he’s been chiselled out of stone instead of being loose and relaxed like pretty much everyone else here.

Charlie slips her arm around Castiel’s and starts leading both him and Dean towards the bar. She has to raise her voice to practically yell over the music. “If you don’t feel better after a couple of drinks, then you can go home, okay?”

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. At high school parties, Dean used alcohol like it was liquid courage so he wouldn’t worry about being caught sneaking out, or doing things he wasn’t supposed to. The only difference between now and back then is that he isn’t dumb as shit anymore. Dean abused alcohol way more than he ever should have because he didn’t know or care about the consequences. He was the typical stupid teen who thought he was immortal. Hangovers and a not so nice _stern_ lecture from his parents have taught him otherwise.

Cas isn’t a dumb teenager. Even if drinks _do_ help calm him down, which Dean doesn’t know if they will or not, he at least trusts Cas not to abuse it. He wasn’t all that interested in alcohol at the New Year’s Eve party, so that’s something, at least. This is new territory for Dean and he’s just going to have to keep an eye on things. Charlie isn’t a worry for him because alcohol has next to no effect on her. It takes _a lot_ to make her drunk, but that doesn’t stop her from drinking and just having fun with everyone.

It’s quieter towards the bar and Dean is almost _positive_ that there’s magic a play with that because they’re still in the same room as the dance floor. Technically speaking, the whole bar is in the same room as the dance floor. The main floor is mostly devoted to that to start with. There are dozens of tables ringing the dance floor all the way up to the walls, except for where the entrance is and the whole wall devoted to the bar.

The club is a good four stories tall with three extra floors above the main one. That’s not including the basement area which is not only _much_ brighter than the rest of the club, but it has quiet rooms where people who need a rest or aren’t feeling well can relax. The bathrooms are down there too, and Dean has never encountered any kind of line for those. While it’s nice down there when you need a break from the _thoom thoom_ of the base and the music, he usually prefers one of the upper levels.

Since the building is tall, there are actually no floors above the dance area. It’s a big open area full of twinkling magic lights that really give the whole place a nice feel to it. The upper floors ring the area, and that’s where people can find places to sit and actually have a conversation. Dean really likes how the music can still be heard, but it’s not deafening up there. Plus, each floor has its own bar. They’re not as well stocked or as big as the one on the main floor, but they get the job done. It makes more room for the tables that are towards the inner edge of the floors and couches against all the outer walls.

If they take Cas upstairs where the crowds are thinner and the music isn’t as disorienting, he might find it easier to calm down. Before they can do that, they have to wait in line at the bar. Charlie and Dean both order beers while Cas scans a drink menu for something that might catch his eye. To Dean’s surprise, Charlie also apparently ordered a round of shots for them. He must’ve missed it while trying to help Cas make up his mind about what to order.

“Here!” Charlie slides two purple looking shots down in front of both of them. “Try one.”

“What is it?” Cas picks it up and sniffs it; wrinkling his nose slightly.

She shrugs and holds her own shot up to tap against their own. “A purple starfucker. I’ve never had it before, but it looks pretty, so down it goes!”

Cas looks a little more unconvinced about it than Dean does, but he knocks it back without complaint. He smacks his lips a few times before licking them. “Well, that wasn’t _too_ bad.”

Dean’s laughs and jostles Cas’s shoulder. “Hey, make sure you get a water too. Always a good idea to keep hydrated.”

“Okay.” He nods and leans over the counter to ask the bartender for a water. Once that’s placed, he turns to Charlie. “Can you order me something else too? I don’t like a strong alcoholic taste.”

Now this is where Charlie shines. Her internal encyclopedia of cocktails rivals that of most bartenders. When Cas’s bottle of water is handed over, she orders something that Dean doesn’t quite catch. Whatever it is, when the bartender brings it over, it’s got a spear of fruit resting in it. The whole thing is a pretty shade of orange and Dean doesn’t even want to think of how sweet it might be.

Once they’ve paid, they make their way through the crowd towards the _massive_ staircase that leads all the way to the top floor. Charlie leads the way with Cas holding the back of her shirt like a child trying not to get lost. Dean isn’t much better, because he’s doing the same to Cas. They’re a train of ducklings following their fiery mama and Dean can’t help snorting a laugh.

Since he’s the one bringing up the rear and has no say in where they’re actually going, he takes the chance to scan the sea of people for anyone who might be able to entertain Charlie during their time here. Dean does spot a few ladies that fit her criteria. The difficult thing will be keeping a tab on them to make sure they’re actually viable options. Anyone who looks to be here with a partner is an immediate no go; big groups are risky, but doable; and it’s almost impossible to find someone who is literally here on their own.

Halfway up the stairs, Dean spots a group sporting several pairs of frail looking wings. He’s honestly surprised when he _recognizes_ one set. He pokes Cas harder in the back than usual as Charlie tries to worm her way through a throng of people blocking the landing where the stairs curve back to the next floor. When Cas turns to him with a raise eyebrow, Dean points out at the group currently waiting for their turn at the bar.

It’s almost a little hurtful that Cas actually looks _relieved_ to see Balthazar here. He leans in and Dean forgives him instantly as his lips brush his ear. “Balthazar said he would come with some friends just in case I ended up alone.”

Okay, Dean takes it back. That _is_ a little hurtful and he can’t help the outright _scandalized_ look he turns on Cas. “I would _never_ leave you here alone!”

The soft smile on his lips is somewhat apologetic and Cas lets go of Charlie to touch Dean on the shoulder gently. “I know you wouldn’t.”

That smile is entirely too unfair. It has Dean weak in the knees all the way up to the second floor where Charlie manages to find a free cocktail table wedged against the wall between two couches. It only has two tall chairs to it, but it’s better than nothing. Dean puts his beer down as Charlie guides Cas to sit on one of the chairs. He turns, totally prepared to go on the hunt for another chair so Charlie can sit with them, but he doesn’t get more than a few steps before she’s dragging him back to the table by the back of his shirt.

“I don’t need one.” She forces him onto the free chair and gives him a thumbs up. “You two enjoy the table. It’s all for you.”

Yeah, okay. It’s not like he’s going to fight with her on that. They _are_ here for her, after all. It’s Charlie’s party and Dean and Cas are there as support. Sorta. Of course they’re going to have fun on their own and it’s not _all_ about her, but this first bit kinda is. That’s pretty much all they do while they work their way through their first drinks. Charlie stands at the edge of their table and sways slightly to the music, her back to them as she watches the ebb and flow of the crowd.

Once she’s done her drink, Charlie shoves the empty glass to the far side of their table and pats them both on the shoulder. “Keep each other company. I’m going to hunt.”

Dean never really likes it when she takes off on her own, but it’s not like he can really stop her. Charlie is fast as hell and she disappears into the crowd before he can object. All he can really do is give Cas a defeated shrug. He gets a small smile in turn; half hidden behind his drink. Honestly, Dean is a little jealous of how tasty it looks. It probably tastes way better than his beer.

Cas must notice him eyeing it up. He holds it out and swivels the straw to face Dean. “Would you like to try some of it?”

Hell yeah he’ll give that a shot. And maybe feel just a little bit giddy about the whole indirect kiss aspect of it. That doesn’t seem to occur to Cas at all. He doesn’t even bat an eyelash as Dean takes a quick sip and _holy shit_. Whatever the drink is, it’s _delicious_ – if not maybe a little too sweet for him. There’s a lot of fruit juice in there, but he can pick out a hint of rum and what might be a flavoured vodka or something hidden behind all the juice.

“I think this is going to be my drink of choice tonight.” Cas nods as if he knows what Dean is thinking and he turns the straw back to himself. He sips at the last of it while he looks out at the crowd.

After a few minutes of nursing the last little bit of their drinks, Cas points to a woman who just came up the stairs with a group that looks a little like they’re in a bachelorette party. “Charlie’s height, more or less, and dark hair. What about her?”

“Wrong kind of group.” Dean shakes his head and sits up a little straighter in his chair, watching them to confirm. And – yup! There’s the two brides to be. “You don’t want to try and get someone from a bachelor or bachelorette party. It’s a nightmare to try and pull someone away from them because everyone is usually there for the bride – or _brides_.”

“Oh.” Cas frowns but turns his attention elsewhere.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Cas points out a few other lovely ladies who might catch Charlie’s eye. That and the conversation Dean strikes up seems to put some of his tensions at ease. It’s definitely distracting him from his anxiety, and it’s nice to see him starting to relax – even if it is pretty slow. The only problem is when Cas’s frown deepens whenever Dean shoots down one of the ladies he points out. They just don’t stack up to what he knows Charlie likes and that’s not a fault of Cas’s.

They can’t strike out forever, though. Eventually Cas points towards a group that’s in the process of pushing a bunch of tables together overlooking the dance floor. “The one in the blue dress with the open sleeves. She’s Charlie’s height, fairly pretty, and has dark hair. Would she be acceptable?”

Dean has to stand up to see her from where he’s sitting. He catches a glimpse of pointed ears and not-quite-human facial features. A Creature would be perfect for Charlie. “What do you think? An Elf?”

“Wingless Fae, I think.” Cas shrugs and tilts his head, leaning in his seat to see around other people in the way. “She’s with a group and some of them _do_ have wings. Fae don’t usually mingle outside of their own in public.”

Shit. Dean hums and taps the base of his empty bottle on the table. A Fae would be a hard mark for Charlie. But from what he can see, this Fae is totally her type. Well, it can’t hurt to at least _try_. When he pulls out his phone to text her, Cas sits back in his chair with the smuggest smile _ever_. Was he thinking that this was some kind of competition? Knowing him, he probably did.

Charlie shows up a few minutes later, a flame of excitement flickering in the depths of her eyes. She’s nearly bouncing in place as she pulls Dean out of his chair. “Show me!”

The smug smile on Cas’s lips falls into a worried frown as Charlie manages to pull Dean a few feet away from the table. He stops long enough to look back and hold up two fingers. Hopefully Cas will know that means he’ll be back within minutes, if not sooner. Charlie should know better than to drag him away like this, but she’s excited and he’ll forgive her for it this once. Cas does look briefly panicked, but he takes a visibly deep breath and nods. He even tries forcing a smile, but it just makes Dean feel worse about leaving him alone for any length of time.

As soon as they have a clear view of the Fae in question, Dean points her out and Charlie’s jaw drops. That’s as good an answer as any and he tries hard not to laugh about it – particularly because that’s the same expression he had when they picked Cas up.

“Should I break the ice for you?”

It takes her a moment to school her face into something not entirely ridiculous. When she’s ready, she nods and gives Dean a double thumbs up again. “Let’s do this!”

That said, it does take him a few deep breaths to work up the courage to approach a stranger. He’s not half as bad at is as some people he knows, but he’s definitely not shameless enough to just _do_ it. Charlie’s the same and she prepares by hiding behind Dean as he makes his way over to the group of Fae. The woman they want to take to isn’t really interacting with the rest of the group. She’s more leaning on the balcony railing and watching the dancers.

Dean fixes his most charming smile in place when he taps her on the shoulder. She turns to him with a raised eyebrow and he immediately steps out of the way to usher Charlie up front. “My fiery friend here has a few words to say about the prettiest girl in the bar, and she thinks you should hear them.”

It’s not his greatest icebreaker, but it gets the job done. Charlie is always wonderfully charming and she flips the switch on that to put it into overdrive. Dean backs away, mouthing an apology because sometimes he thinks it doesn’t reflect too well to have someone else open for her. This doesn’t seem to be the case, because the Fae lady isn’t even looking at him. She’s smiling and laughing at the joke Charlie cracks as her opener.

Things seem to be working just fine for her and Dean slips away back into the crowd. He’ll have to pay for Cas’s next drink or something for a job well done with what is looking to be a good pick. They’re both empty on drinks, so they might as well give up their table and go get refreshed. It’ll be better than him leaving Cas alone again

All thoughts of drinks and, well, _anything_ disintegrate into nothing as Dean breaks through the crowd only to find some stranger is sitting in his chair. The guy has his elbows on the table and he’s making eyes at Cas and it just about makes Dean’s heart stop. A flash of jealousy morphs almost immediately into worry because he catches sight of Cas’s face and he does _not_ look comfortable. For someone who doesn’t know him, it might not be really obvious, but Dean can read the subtle signals. In particular, Cas keeps glancing in the direction where Dean and Charlie left. Thanks to the crowd, he’s approaching the table from a different angle.

Without further ado, he slides up behind Cas and puts both hands on his shoulders. Dean leans in until their heads are level with each other. “Sorry for making you wait.”

Cas is practically like stone under his hands and he only relaxes once Dean has spoken. He even twists to give him a relieved smile. Dean squeezes his shoulders, but keeps himself focused on the guy sitting in his spot. “Hey, bud. How’s it going?”

Thankfully, the guy doesn’t give them a difficult time. He gets up with both hands raised in defeat and gives them both an apologetic smile as he walks away. Cas doesn’t fully relax until Dean is sitting back in his spot. He sags against the edge of the table with a sigh and covers his face with both hands. It’s adorable and concerning, and it makes Dean’s heart ache.

He reaches over and pulls one of his hands away. “Sorry, Cas. I promise I’m not going to leave you again for the rest of the night.”

“I was just unprepared.” Cas squeezes his hand before sitting back, his fingers slipping through Dean’s until they come apart. “He sat down so suddenly. It surprised me how quickly someone came over.”

“Guys circle like sharks for guys like us.” Dean shrugs and sits back too, trying to ignore how his fingers tingle with tactile memory. “I told you before, didn’t I? You’re going to catch a lot of eyes here and you’re probably going to get hit on alot tonight. Maybe even _while_ we’re together.”

Cas looks skeptical of that, but Dean’s point is proven not even a whole ten minutes later. Another guy approaches Deans’ s side of the table with an invitation to dance right when they’re in the middle of deciding whether or not they actually want to go get drinks and abandon the one spot that Charlie knows they’ll be. Dean politely declines, but he almost chokes on a laugh when the guy immediately turns to ask Cas if _he_ wants to dance.

It obviously takes Cas by surprise and all he manages is to shake his head. It’s kinda funny that Dean used to think he was just so calm and cool when they first met. The juxtaposition of the Cas he knows now and the Cas he idolized at first is just a little bit hilarious. Dean is amused enough that he starts laughing as the guy wanders off to go talk to the next group of guys, clearly not perturbed in the slightest about being shot down.

“I think I’m ready for another drink.” Cas announces as he slides out of his chair. He’s lucky that these levels don’t have that much light to them. It’s doing a good job of hiding his blush as he all but drags Dean to the bar on this level.

Charlie and her new Fae friend are there already, the two of them standing inappropriately close as they wait their turn. They’re talking excitedly to each other and Dean pats Cas on the shoulder. He puffs up with a little bit of pride when he sees them. Cas even flashes him a triumphant smile that melts into one of surprise. Dean has all of a few seconds to wonder why before he’s hit from behind. He staggers forward a few steps as someone throws an arm around his shoulder.

“Cassie! Dean!” Balthazar leans into Dean’s side with a laugh; jostling his shoulders in the process. “I knew I was doing the right thing by brining Gilda along.” He points to where Charlie and her Fae friend are talking. “I knew they’d hit it off. Gilda’s a total nerd like your little friend there.”

Okay, so, apparently Dean needs to re-evaluate his feelings on Balthazar. So far he’s considered him to be a kind of smarmy jackass. Granted, that’s not far from the truth. But it’s nice of him to try and set Charlie up, and nice of him to arrange to come to the club tonight in the off chance that Dean was a complete asshole and abandoned one of his best friends.

“Thank you, Balthazar.” Cas reaches over and gingerly shoves his arm from Dean’s shoulders. “It certainly seems like they’re enjoying each other’s company. We appreciate your help.” He moves to stand between them, none too carefully edging Dean to one side – and coincidentally closer to the bar.

Charlie and Gilda brush past, neither one really noticing who they’re walking by, as they make their way towards the stairs. Dean watches after them until they’re out of sight. He’s can’t help grinning at how _happy_ Charlie seems to be. This might be more than just a one night dance fling. Once he gets to the Cas and Balthazar start whispering to each other. Whatever they’re talking about looks heated and Cas doesn’t look _that_ happy about it. On the other hand, Balthazar looks _exceedingly_ pleased with himself.

They’re still involved in their little argument by the time Dean makes it to the bar and he orders for both him and Cas. Balthazar is going to have to get his own drinks because he’s the only one who knows what the hell he wants. Ordering is a little difficult in that he doesn’t actually know the name of the drink Cas had. He has to describe it before the bartender gets that _ah-hah_ moment and knows what he’s talking about. Turns out, it’s called a _tropical sunset_.

With drinks in hand, they have a good reason to break apart from Balthazar and head off to find another place to settle down. Rather than go up to another floor, or look for another table here, Dean elects to follow after Charlie and head downstairs again. Maybe, if he’s _incredibly_ lucky, he might be able to convince Cas to go out on the dance floor with him. It’s not likely, but a guy can hope, right?

By some miracle, they manage to find a standing cocktail table by the edge of the floor. It’s got a few abandoned drinks on it, and there are no chairs, but it’s better than nothing. Right now they’re not really going to talk either, since the music is _way_ too loud to do that down here. This is more a time for drinking and relaxing. Cas doesn’t seem to mind. As far as Dean can tell, he’s perfectly happy to just lean against the table and sip at his drink while they watch Charlie and Gilda boogie down on the dance floor.

Over the course of the next hour, Dean and Cas end up moving between quite a few tables and all the levels of the club. They get a new one every time they go get new drinks. Dean settles for a coke or water most times, but Cas has been sticking strong to his sunsets. They apparently make him more talkative than Dean is used to, but it’s fine. Their conversations keep him more than entertained enough since he’s not treating the club like he usually does.

They end up talking about everything from politics to what they plan to do with the rest of the year, from the best kind of pet to have to video game releases and how Cas should really get into it because how awesome would it be to play video games together? Dean tries not to probe _too_ much, but he does end up learning some new things about Cas’s preferences that he didn’t completely know before. They talk about morning rituals and bedtime rituals, and everything in between.

It’s really good, if only because they don’t _talk_ like this a whole lot. When they’re together, usually they’re watching a movie and talking about that, or about a book they’ve read, or they play some board games together. Of course they’ve _talked_ before, but conversations like this aren’t their usual fare and it’s a nice break from things. Maybe they should add a _talk_ night to the rotation of things they do. Add in a walk and talk and – well, that’s starting to sound like a really good time.

The only downside to the night is that their conversations keep getting interrupted by other guys. In an hour, at least seven guys have come up to ask either one of them to dance. It’s not really _that_ annoying, but it always puts Cas in a weird mood for a few minutes. Dean has a bit of an opposite reaction, in a way. Whenever he gets asked to dance, he always gets a little flush of giddiness. Really, though, how could he _not_? There’s just something _fun_ about knowing that someone thinks you’re hot enough to want to dance with.

In truth, Dean actually _would_ like to dance, but he’ll go to hell before he ever leaves Cas alone at the table when he’s still going a little wild-eyed at everyone who approaches them. Of course, there’s always the option of asking Cas to dance with him, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish. There’s no way he’s even going to attempt that while Cas is still in the process of loosening up. The alcohol seems to be helping somewhat. It’s just going to take _a lot_ of drinks to affect his Creature constitution. Though, if he didn’t eat before coming, it’s possible that he might get hit harder than he usually would.

It’s closer to the second hour that they’ve been there when Dean thinks Cas has reached that plateau of relaxation. It doesn’t look like he’s going to get any _more_ relaxed, considering that the guy who just asked him if he could get him a drink didn’t even make Cas blink. He just sipped his _full_ drink and shook his head like the cool cucumber he apparently is.

The guy immediately turns to Dean and leans in, eyebrow cocked. “And how ‘bout you? Want a drink – or a dance?” He quite obviously looks down at the way Dean is sorta swaying to the music and tapping a foot to the tune.

“I’m good, thanks.” Dean holds up his bottle of water and uses it to gesture towards Cas. He watches the pinched frown – or is that a pout? – curve up into a pleased little smile that Cas again tries to hide behind his drink. “Wish I could, but I’m hanging with my friend tonight.”

Those few beers that he had earlier haven’t done shit for him buzz-wise, but they have _definitely_ helped in keeping cool whenever he’s been hit on. Cas plays a big part in that too. If he wasn’t here, Dean would one hundred percent be awkward and tripping over himself or his words until he had enough drinks to completely override that. Because Cas agreed to come, Dean had decided that he was going to decline everyone who comes his way. It’s always easier when he has a prepared response rather than being caught off guard.

Honestly, it’s a miracle that he’s managed to grow out of that when he’s with Cas. God, just thinking about how he used to be makes him want to crawl into a hole and hide. There was just so much stuttering and the walking into the chairs and tables at the café. It’s a wonder that he didn’t have more bruises than he actually did.

The guy walks away with a shrug and Dean glances after him. He can’t help but steal a quick look at his butt, if only because those are some obscenely tight jeans he’s wearing. Aw, jeeze. Of _course_ he would have to not only be super cute, but have a nice ass too. It’s the kind of perfectly round ass that just makes you want to _grab_ it. Kinda like Cas’s ass. Man, it takes way too much willpower not to playfully slap it some days, just to see how Cas would react. After the whole New Year’s Eve debacle, it probably wouldn’t go over _that_ well.

Although – Valentine’s Day was a bit of an eye opener. It kinda started to fan the flames of hope again and Dean is keeping his fingers crossed that maybe something more might come out of it if he just sticks to his guns a little longer. If Cas ends up yanking the rug out from under his feet and officially shooting him down, Dean’s not sure his heart is going to be able to take it. Every time they hang out together, he falls just a little bit more for Cas.

Speaking of, they were right in the middle of talking about weirdest things they’ve ever eaten when that guy interrupted. Dean looks back, ready to regale Cas with the story of how he once ate a handful of garden worms for twenty dollars when he was a kid. The story dies in his throat at the look on Cas’s face. His frown has come back in full force and it’s stronger than ever. It brought with it a glare to end all glares, and Dean is forever thankful that it’s directed at the table and not quite at him.

After a few moments pass where Cas doesn’t look up or even move, Dean reaches over and knocks on the table directly in his line of sight. “Hey, you okay?”

Cas looks up sharply at that and leans forward; his voice a little louder than necessary given that the noise level around them isn’t all that high. “Do you want to dance?”

Dean damn near drops his bottle of water. He blinks a few times before cupping a hand behind his ear. “What?” Because he can’t have actually heard what he thinks Cas might have just said.

It’s more an attempt at being funny than anything, but Cas doesn’t seem to be impressed by it. The corners of his mouth pull down even more and his eyes narrow into a hell of a squint behind his glasses. “You keep bopping your head to the music.” He even gestures at Dean sharply with one hand. “And you’re basically dancing in place. So, I ask again, _do you want to dance_?”

This is starting to feel like more of an interrogation than a simple question. Dean shrinks back a little, feeling guiltier than he really should. “I guess? I mean, I usually do when I come here, but I’m not going to just ditch you to go dance up on some other guy.”

Instead of answering, Cas turns his head to look over the edge of the balcony. He glares down at the dance floor for a solid minute before he looks back to Dean. With what has to be _the_ most determined expression to ever be expressed, he takes the straw and fruit spear out of his drink and knocks the whole damn thing back in one go. Dean can’t help but stare open mouthed as Cas slams the glass back down on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Before he can even question what in the hell is going on, Cas puts both hands flat on the table. “Alright. Then let us dance.”

Yeah, okay. He _definitely_ had to have misheard that one. Dean resists the urge to pull the anime cliché of pretending to clean out his ear, but he does lean forward. “I’m sorry; but _what_?”

Cas makes a frustrated noise and he abandons his side of the table. Dean’s heart claws its way up into his throat as Cas moves to stand next to him. “You had better agree now before I change my mind.” His determination wavers slightly but he clenches his jaw anyways. “I’ve never danced at a club before, so you should show me how.”

When Cas holds out his hand, Dean actually feels a little faint. It’s not fair that Cas looks _really hot_ when he’s got his jaw set like that, or when he turns those hard eyes on him. He’s pinned by that stair and it’s _doing_ things to him. Dean’s forgetting how to breathe and it takes him way too long to actually respond. Once he’s able to move again, everything kind of happens in a blur. He remembers chugging his water shortly before actually taking Cas’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs.

For some reason, his brain has gone on the fritz. The rest of the world is a hazy buzz in the background while he tries desperately to remember if he’s ever held Cas’s hand before. Is his skin normally cool or is that just an after effect of the damp condensation from his glass? Is his grin always this strong and does his hand always feel so frikken _solid_? Either way, Dean would very much like to have this as a recurrence – though he’s not sure if his heart could take it because goddamn it is going _insane_. Maybe he’s a little bit pathetic to be so happy about something as simple as _holding his hand_ , but that’s not really something he can help right now.

As soon as they hit the dance floor, Cas is back to being rigid like he was carved from stone. All his cool determination and stead composition disappears. He stands with his feet planted in front of Dean, eyes darting back and forth as he looks at everyone dancing around them. This is totally a bad idea for so many reasons, but Dean clings to the fact that _Cas_ was the one who wanted to do this. If he changes his mind and wants to go find another table, then Dean will go with it. He’ll be disappointed, yes, but this is something that Cas wants to try and Dean will help the best he can for now.

He catches both of Cas’s hands as he steps in close. It’s the only way they’re going to hear each other over the music. “Hey, if you wanna learn how to dance, then keep your eyes on me.”

Cas’s eyes snap to his, all wide and intense and just fucking perfect. His lips move, but he speaks so quietly that even with their noses almost touching, Dean can’t hear him. Whatever it was, it can’t be important, because Cas makes no effort to repeat it.

With his heart residing somewhere at the back of his throat, Dean brings Cas’s hands up to rest them on his shoulders. He holds his gaze the whole time as he slowly relocates his own hands to Cas’s hips. A blush rises in his cheeks and he curls his fingers in the fabric of Dean’s shirt, but otherwise he makes no move to correct it. That’s an excellent sign and Dean breathes a soft sigh of relief before he uses his hold on Cas’s hips to get them to start moving.

They begin with a soft sway that doesn’t _quite_ match the beat of the music. It’s the best they can get right now as Dean slowly gets Cas to start mimicking him. Piece by piece, he introduces Cas to bouncing on the balls of his feet. They follow it up by rocking their heads side to side. Cas makes an excellent mirror and he copies Dean almost perfectly. If they were matching the beat, it would almost be perfect.

When Cas seems like he’s more comfortable with dancing, Dean ups the speed. He moves their hips more, getting Cas to rock his whole body to the music. He still moves like there’s a two-by-four up his ass, but Dean is still totally enraptured by it. They’re not moving _anything_ like everyone else on the dance floor, but as far as he cares, those people don’t even exist anymore. It’s just him and Cas, dancing to their own music and, yeah. Dean is basically in Heaven right now.

Cas has dropped his gaze to stare down between their bodies, watching how Dean moves his feet or sways his hips. They’re toeing all kinds of boundaries right now and Dean tries really hard not to push for too much. Frankly, this right here might be enough to keep him happy for a lifetime. It’s also going to make him horribly greedy and – and a _little_ more won’t hurt, right?

He bumps his forehead against the top of Cas’s head and waits until he looks up again. With their foreheads together, this is officially the closest they have ever been and Dean very much has to resist that little voice in the back of his head that got him in a lot of trouble on New Year’s Eve. And this time he doesn’t even have alcohol to blame for anything. This is just pure selfishness.

“Is this okay?” Dean nudges Cas’s nose with his own.

Those too-blue eyes stay fixed on his; still wide and captivating. Cas opens his mouth and closes it a few times before he settles on just nodding. He blinks a few times and each one leaves his eyes a little more closed until they stay closed completely. Cas leans into Dean a little more, stepping in and forcing them to readjust how they’re standing. It’s his own self-control that keeps his hands on Cas’s hips, but the hands are his shoulders are gone. They’ve been replaced by Cas’s arms and they rest heavily on them, his fingers now trailing between Dean’s shoulder blades.

“Awesome.” He grins and Cas returns it slowly, but surely. “You just keep doing what you’re doing and everything will be fine.”

They might not be dancing quite as enthusiastically as some of the other club goers, but they _are_ about four inches and one well-placed leg away from grinding. If you asked kids these days, that is apparently now a kind of dancing. Dean has his reservations about that particular argument, but he’s totally guilty of enjoying that on more than one occasion. This is _not_ such a time, though. Cas has gotta be tilting away from the sober end of the spectrum right now. Even if he _is_ up for learning how to dance like you’re basically having sex on the dance floor, that’s not something Dean is comfortable with. Not when Cas has shot him down and they’re already toeing a whole lot of those lines right now.

The thing about clubs is that they’re always so out of sync with the rest of the world in a mental kind of sense. Dean always feels like he’s left the real world behind with the dim light and a steady beat makes the air vibrate around him. All his problems always feel so far away when he’s rocking in a sea of moving bodies. Drinking definitely doesn’t help that feeling at all. A club is an _escape_ , and everyone needs those every once in awhile.

This isn’t really one of those times, but Dean is definitely enjoying it. He’s maybe even a little disappointed when Cas pulls away after a few more songs and mimes the need for a drink. Dean agrees and leads him off the dance floor. The main bar looks super busy, so they head upstairs to the find a less busy one on the other levels. Dean gets himself a water, but Cas orders another of his fancy sunsets.

“I thought you said you didn’t like to drink.” He teases as Cas slides the cherries and orange slice off the plastic spear and pops them in his mouth.

“I don’t.” Cas shrugs and drops the rind of his orange slice into his glass, using the spear to push it under the ice. “But this one tastes good.” He takes a sip as they start toward the stairs again, taking their time so they can finish their drinks before they get to the dance floor. “An’ this is – it’s _helping_. I worry about a lot of things an’ right now I care less about ‘em than I ever have before.”

After a pause, Cas lowers his drink and turns a concerned look to Dean. “Should I stop?”

“One night of drinking fun isn’t going to make you an alcoholic.” Dean shrugs and steps off to the side to lean against the balcony railing. If they’re going to talk, they might as well do it here. They won’t be able to hear each other if they go back downstairs. “Just don’t become one of those people who uses it as a daily crutch and it’ll be fine.”

Cas leans next to him, standing much closer than he usually would. “Thank you.” He tilts a small smile at him before bring his straw back to his lips. “M’glad I came out tonight.”

“Me too.”

Dean bumps their shoulders together as they fall into silence, though he does take note that Cas has started to slur his speech slightly. He keeps an eye on him as much as he watches the crowd below, trying to pick Charlie and Gilda out in the sea of heads. There are too many people and everyone is moving _way_ too much for him to pick out two people in the mess below. He’ll have to text her later when Cas is ready to go, but that’s not looking to be any time soon. Honestly, Dean is just _so_ proud of how much he’s grown in just a few months.

When Cas finishes his drink, Dean hands off the last of his water. He puts an arm around his shoulders and gives them a squeeze of encouragement because keeping hydrated is very important. With his arm around Cas’s shoulders, Dean starts them back downstairs because he definitely wants to keep dancing and he might as well get to it while Cas still has the courage to do it.

The water bottle is empty by the time they make it downstairs and Cas abandons it on a table full of other empty glasses and bottles. They make their way along the edge of the dance floor and pick up the beat. It takes them a few songs to really work into the thick of the crowd, but Cas is the one dragging Dean after him into it, surprisingly enough. He’s the one who pulls Dean in close as they worm into the packed center of the floor. This time, his arms curl around Dean’s waist and – _whoa cowboy_! That is most _definitely_ a leg pressing between his own and he did _not_ teach Cas to do that.

“I think I like dancing.” Cas has to practically shout to be heard, but he still slants a loose grin at him as his fingers slip into Dean’s belt loops.

Warning bells are going off all over the fucking place and Dean puts his hands on Cas’s shoulders, trying his best to take a step back. “Yeah, it’s pretty fun. You – uh – you might wanna give me some space to actually _dance_ though, Cas.”

Oh dear God, his grip is like _iron_ and Dean is very much stuck. Cas sways into him until their foreheads bump. He closes his eyes and he rocks against Dean with little to no actual sense of the beat; moving for the sake of moving. It’s a small blessing that he’s not actually rubbing up on Dean like some of the other guys on the dance floor are doing with each other. And this is utterly absolutely the _worst_ because Dean wants nothing more than to lean in on him and just _give in_.

Halfway through the next song, Dean realizes that Cas’s lazy smile is more of a _sleepy_ gesture than not. Dear God Almighty, is he a _sleepy drunk_? If he is, then that’s not only fucking adorable as all hell, but it’s going to be Dean’s saving grace here.

“Hey, I thought you were a night owl.” Dean brings a hand up to poke Cas in the cheek, bringing himself to a complete stop so only one of them is still swaying to the song. “What are you doing getting all sleepy, huh?”

In confirmation of his theory, it takes Cas a little _too_ long to open his eyes. “I feel _good_ ri’now.”

Yup, there’s that slur Dean picked up on earlier. It’s more pronounced now, and this is as good a time as any to call it quits. Cas is apparently not only a sleepy drunk, but a touchy feely one at that. Dean trusts himself not to take advantage of that, but he doesn’t want to run the risk of Cas attempting to do something that is _seriously_ going to put that through the worst stress test of all time. That and it would suck major monkey balls if Cas remembered that he tried to do something and be so mortified by it that he ends up avoiding Dean.

With some effort, he manages to untangle Cas’s fingers from his belt loops. Dean gets a foot of space between them before he makes Cas look at him again. “You ready to go home?”

A disappointed frown plays across those all too tempting lips. “What if Charlie doesn’t want t’go yet?” Cas’s glasses are slipping down his nose, but he does nothing to correct them as he glances around. “She might be _busy_.”

Dean carefully readjusts Cas’s glasses for him before patting him on the cheek. “Well why don’t we go and confirm that for ourselves, okay?”

He has no idea what else a drunk Cas might do, or even just how drunk Cas might be, so he’s not going to take any chances here. Dean grabs Cas by the hand and starts pulling him through the crowd. There’s less of a chance of losing him once they’re off the dance floor, but that’s not a risk he’s willing to take. Plus, Dean is kinda digging the hand holding. Cas certainly isn’t complaining, but he might not be in a place _to_ complain. This is uncharted territory and Dean really should have had a contingency plan for it or something, because he’s maybe just a little worried about this.

It takes _way_ too long to find Charlie than he would have liked, considering that they had to do a thorough search of each level before they come across her on the third floor. She’s perched in Gilda’s lap on one of the couches; the two of them chatting away merrily without a care in the world. Quite literally in fact, because neither one seems to notice or give a damn about the fact that Balthazar is sitting next to them on the same couch, enthusiastically making out with another winged Fae guy.

Thankfully, Charlie _does_ seem to care about them. She notices them approaching before they’ve even reached the couch and she’s on her feet in an instant; wearing the biggest smile Dean’s seen in ages. Gilda stands up too and Charlie gestures excitedly between them. “Handmaiden, this is Gilda. Gilda, this is my handmaiden.”

At least it’s not the first impression that Dean has made with her. He rolls his eyes at Charlie but holds his hand out to Gilda to shake. “For the record, I also go by Dean.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She laughs and gives it a solid shake. “I’ve never tried LARPing, but Charlie has talked about it quite a bit tonight.”

“Dean. _Dean_.” Charlie grabs him by the arm and pulls him down until he’s down to her height. “Gilda plays _dungeons and dragons_.”

And that’s as good as saying that she’s in love. Dean straightens up with a grin. “Well now you’re doomed. We have an online group you should totally join. Charlie and I play on our laptops in the same room, but the rest of our group can’t always make it in person.”

“That sounds like fun.” Gilda pulls her phone out from the folds of her dress. In hindsight, it was probably from a pocket. She holds it out to Charlie, an eyebrow raised. “If you give me your information, I think I’d like to do that. And you should join _my_ group. We’re in person, but I have the feeling that you wouldn’t mind that.”

Charlie lights up, quite literally. Little sparks pop and sizzle in the flecks on her skin and bare shoulders as she digs her own phone out. Dean patiently waits for them to exchange phones and add each other’s numbers into them. He tries _really_ hard not to pay too much attention to the fact that even though he’s let go of Cas’s hand, Cas hasn’t let go of _his_ hand. It is still very much being held and Cas is quite obviously leaning against Dean’s arm; his head tilted to rest against his shoulder.

This is just about everything Dean has been dreaming about with Cas, but at the same time this is a _huge_ problem. Is Cas a cuddly drunk _and_ a sleepy drunk? Would he be doing this to Charlie if she was here instead of him? Or have Cas’s inhibitions been lowered enough that he’s just doing what he actually wants to do? In that case, does that mean Cas has feelings for him? Does he _want_ him and isn’t acting on them because of some unforeseen reason that’s going to make this evening haunt Dean probably forever – or at least until his balls grow big enough for him to just _ask_ Cas?

He steals a quick glance just to check out the situation, and he’s a little bit surprised. Cas’s eyes are half closed, but they’re focused on watching Balthazar’s weirdly pornographic make out session. He’s wearing an expression that Dean can’t quite figure out. It’s not one he’s seen on Cas before and all he can do about it is squeeze his hand and hope that distracts him. It does work for a little bit, because Cas lifts his head to glance up at him.

Maybe it’s a trick of the lights, but Dean is almost positive that Cas’s gaze dips to look at his lips. After a moment, not even the dim lights are able to hide how his whole face goes cherry red. Cas ducks his head and carefully drops it to Dean’s shoulder again. He squeezes Dean’s hand tightly and, if possible, shuffles even closer.

Dear God, please give him strength.

Dean reaches over and taps Charlie on the shoulder. This is an urgent thing that she not only needs to see, but they need to get the hell out of here before regrettable things happen. There’s always the chance that it _won’t_ be regrettable, but fuck if Dean’s going to take that risk. Not when he’s still standing on the other side of the rejection line with nothing but hope keeping him there. If it wasn’t for that hope, Dean could’ve just settled back in the awesome zone of friendship while turning his romantic (and sexual) pursuits elsewhere.

Charlie turns around with her phone in hand and an eyebrow raised. She takes one look at how Dean and Cas are standing before outright _grinning_. It sets his teeth on edge because God but he wishes that he had some good news for her on his own romantic front. Instead, all he can do is shake his head and jerk his thumb over his shoulder. The less he talks, the less he disturbs Cas. A little part of him is afraid that if he actually speaks now, it’s going to ruin this little illusionary bubble he’s found himself in. He’s not going to act on anything, but he wants to hold onto this for as long as he can.

With a sigh, Charlie checks the time on her phone and nodes. It’s gotta be close to midnight now and they have a long drive home. Their plan was always to leave around now anyways, so she shouldn’t be _too_ upset. Granted, she’s apparently had a hell of a time on her own and Dean does feel a little bad about getting her to leave before she’s really ready. If she _really_ wants to stay, then they can do the back and forth plan they discussed earlier.

Like the blessed little angel that she is, Charlie nods and gives him the thumbs up. She turns to Gilda with an exaggerated sigh. “It looks like my carriage is about to turn into a pumpkin and I have to head out now. But I’ll talk to you again soon?” She sounds so hopeful that Dean decides _not_ to tease her about this on the drive home.

To his relief, and most definitely Charlie’s, Gilda smiles and nods. “I’ll see you later, then.” And, to everyone’s surprised, she actually leans in for a quick kiss.

It leaves Charlie stunned and Dean has to give up the use of his free hand to lead her away. He even has to give goodbyes for everyone, not that Balthazar pays any attention to it. Charlie isn’t even drunk as far as Dean can tell, but she’s stumbling after him like she is. Cloud nine is apparently a serious drug for her, because she’s still completely out of it by the time they exit the main part of the club into the coat check area. So much so that _Dean_ has to get her coat for her. At least Cas seems more or less capable of handing over his ticket on his own.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Dean hates being the designated driver. But other times he enjoys the hell out of it. Tonight, well, he’s a little torn on how he feels about it.

_** ** _

His head has never felt so very light and floaty before. It’s so – so very – it’s just really _nice_. If he had to liken it to anything, then perhaps it would be that moment when one is hanging over the precipice of consciousness; poised to fall asleep. It’s like that twilight moment of thought but not-thought and if this is what happens when he drinks, then his reservations about it have been entirely far too wrong. He’ll have to ask Gabriel to confirm, but maybe he should add this to the ever growing list of things he can do with Dean now. They can go to the club together more often now and dance and drink and oh, that sounds wonderful.

Castiel hums happily, more to himself than the constant chatter from the back seat. Charlie has been gushing about Gilda since they got in the car, but he’s fairly certain that he hasn’t heard a word of it. At this point, he can’t even be bothered to keep his eyes open. It makes him want to throw up if he looks out the window at all the trees and signs passing by. Sitting here with his head on Dean’s shoulder is just far more enjoyable and he can just enjoy the silence in his head for the time being.

 _That_ is what is truly amazing. All Castiel’s worries, his fears, and the little paranoid voices of his sub-conscious have been silenced. There’s nothing but a gentle joy floating through him, and he wants to hold on to it for as long as possible. Dean hasn’t been quite as receptive to his affections as Castiel had expected him to be, but it’s fine. He has his arm slung across the back of the seat, which means it’s essentially around Castiel’s shoulders. It’s something he should mind, but why bother? He has no reason to right now. Not when he’s enjoy the innocuous touching.

With how nice everything is right now, Castiel doesn’t quite want to go home. He would love to stay here like this with Dean for as long as he is able to; breathing him in, enjoying the warmth seeping through his side, and listening to the quiet rumble of his voice as he talks with Charlie. Is this the kind of cuddling that he had hinted at on Valentine’s Day? He’s already regretting not taking him up on the offer earlier because this is absolutely _delightful_ and Castiel absolutely needs to reconsider his position on this  for all of their future ‘ _dates_ ’.

Of course, there shouldn’t _be_ a next time, but he can’t even think about _not_ having one.

**_Sunday – February 21 st, 2016_ **

Dear God in Heaven, what died in his mouth and _why_ is it fuzzy? Castiel’s groans and rolls from his stomach onto his side, almost hoping that Nike was simply trying to smother him in his sleep and the texture of his teeth is because he’s been breathing her fur. Judging by the disgruntled meow from his back, she was _not_ by his head and this is very distressing. Castiel can’t remember the last time he went to sleep without brushing his teeth – actually, scratch that. He can’t remember much of _anything_ through the mild headache throbbing in his temples.

With an apologetic pat to Nike’s head, Castiel carefully rolls to his feet. He stumbles slightly as he trudges from his bedroom; squinting against the light from the living room. Nike curls against his ankle briefly as she passes by. She trots over to the couch and jumps up into Gabriel’s lap. All the curtains are drawn in the living room, and Castiel can’t understand why. They never keep them closed at night.

“Look who finally decided to wake up!” Gabriel all but _beams_ at him as he starts petting Nike. “How’re you feeling, champ?”

Castiel tries his best to process the words, but his brain hasn’t quite joined the rest of him in being awake. He’s had worse headaches, but that in combination with the absolutely disgusting taste in his mouth _and_ the fact that he apparently slept in his clothing, is tripping him up more than usual. All he can manage to Gabriel’s question is a confused grunt and slow blink.

After a moment’s pause, Gabriel breaks down in giggles. It takes him far too long to compose himself and Castiel is halfway decided to go brush his teeth before actual words are formed. “C-Cassie –” He snorts and at least makes an attempt to get control over his laughter. “Little bro, it’s almost seven o’clock. It’s _morning_. You’ve been napping ever since Dean brought you home.”

That doesn’t make sense. If that’s true, it means he lost more than four hours of time napping and there is no way he could’ve been _that_ tired. Castiel frowns and rubs a hand over his face; pushing it up into his hair. Though the headache doesn’t help, he pushes himself to remember what happened. The fog that follows him after sleeping lifts slowly, but the memories flood back and he quickly finds himself wishing that they had stayed away.

A blush _burns_ through his cheeks as he remembers leaning on Dean in the car. He covers his face as he remembers holding his hand and not wanting to let go, all while he was thinking that he wished he could kiss Dean much like Balthazar was kissing whoever that was. With a groan, he lives last night in reverse and his memories hide nothing from him. Castiel’s urge to crawl under his bed and never come out grows ever higher as he remembers dancing rather _closely_ with Dean; and how awkward it was to learn in the first place. He makes a choked noise as he remembers saying that he didn’t want to look anywhere else but at Dean as he was teaching him how to dance.

Could he _be_ any more ridiculous? Please, God, don’t let Dean have actually _heard_ that. If he did, Castiel is never going to be able to live it down. It’s going to be hard enough to look him in the eye again after last night, let alone have to explain that the alcohol hit him harder than he was expecting and he was absolutely more uninhibited than he ever should have been. _Especially_ where Dean was involved. This is the worst. This is the absolute _worst_.

No, never mind. The worst is that Castiel can clearly remember arguing with Balthazar rather early in the evening at the club. He had confessed to bringing Gilda along as he thought she was perfect for Charlie, but he also admitted to doing the same for Dean. Castiel is going to have some _strong_ words for him when he sees him early Monday morning. Granted, Balthazar could have been joking when he said that. Or he could have actually done it because the thought he was being _helpful_.

In any case, Castiel is absolutely mortified for far too many reasons to be comfortable. He was – it was – Oh no. Oh _no_. He drops his arms to hug himself, squeezing tightly around his middle because his body remembers. It _remembers_ what it was like to have Dean pressed up against him. His hands tingle with the faint memory of his hips under them, or his fingers curled around them. If he concentrates hard enough, he might even be able to feel Dean’s breath on their face and the feel of his laugh while they were dancing _far_ too close.

The worst of it is that _Castiel_ was the one doing the majority of the pressing and the touching. And Dean just smiled and accepted it and he – Does he know? Does he _know_ that Castiel has feelings for him? What kind of hope did last night give him? What’s going through his head now? Are these all the memories of last night or is Castiel potentially forgetting something crucial. His foggiest memories are when Dean walked him up to the apartment and he doesn’t remember getting into bed fully dressed _at all_. What if his lips were looser than his hands? What if he _said_ something that he shouldn’t have?

He feels sick.

“Oh, now that’s an interesting shade.” Gabriel turns off the TV and moves Nike from his lap. “You okay, Cassie? You were pretty sleepy when you came home last night.”

Castiel staggers over to sit down in the desk chair. He doubles over to hang his head between his knees; taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. “I made a fool of myself.”

“How so?” The amusement in Gabriel’s voice is entirely uncalled for.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I _danced_ and –”

A snort of laughter cuts him off. Castiel lifts his head just enough to shoot Gabriel a dark glare. “I danced _with Dean_ , and we –”

Why is he wasting time explaining things to Gabriel? He should be cleaning up his mess. Even though his stomach protests, Castiel jumps to his feet and almost trips over his feet running back to his bedroom. He finds his cell phone among the folds of his blanket. Dean’s number is already set to speed dial number four – the first being Gabriel, the second being the store, and the third being their handler from the FBI – and he holds it down as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Unsurprisingly, the call first goes to voicemail. Castiel clears his throat, but it still shakes slightly as he leaves a message. “Dean. Please call me back as soon as you get this.”

It could be _hours_ before Dean calls, but he still can’t help getting up to pace the length of his bedroom as he waits. There’s an itch under his skin, demanding that he set things right because this is _not_ okay. Castiel should have better control of himself. He can’t believe that he allowed alcohol to lower his inhibitions regarding Dean to such an extent that he was so – so – so _clingy_. It’s probably not as bad as he’s making it right now, but he feels _terrible_ that he rejected Dean and then turned around and did something like this with him.

“Cassie?” Gabriel stands in the doorway to his bedroom with Nike in his arms. “Are you freaking out about you dancing? Because, seriously, you couldn’t have been _that_ bad.”

“I don’t want Dean believe that he –” Castiel cuts off as his ringtone jingles from the bed. He all but dives for it; relieved to see that it’s Dean’s number on the screen. “Hello?”

The first thing he hears is a yawn. “Wassup, Cas?”

His hands shake slightly as he sits on the edge of the bed again. “Dean, I – I need to apologize for my behaviours last night.”

“Behaviours?” Dean grunts and there’s the shuffle of a blanket in the background of the call. “S’fine, Cas. Last night was fun.”

Castiel tries not to picture how sleepy and comfortable Dean must be in his bed. He pinches the bridge of his nose and vaguely wonders where his glasses are. “Yes, it – it was fun.” He can’t deny that he _did_ enjoy himself at the time. It’s the guilty feelings he has now that are the most trouble to deal with. “But my actions were inappropriate.”

He only has silence in answer. After a few moments, Dean speaks again. “What d’you mean?” He sounds more awake now. Confused, but awake.

“When we danced, and –” The words build up in his throat and Castiel feels like he’s choking on them. “Our _hands_ – and – and the drive home –” He really doesn’t know what he’s trying to say here, other than to try and get across that nothing is going to change between them because of anything that happened last night. “I’m sorry.”

“Cas.” Dean starts slowly with a quiet sigh. “I honestly don’t know what you’re apologizing for. I wanted to dance and we had fun, right?” He pauses and a measure of worry enters his voice. “Or, did you – did you _not_ have fun? Was it too much for you?”

Yes, he had fun. He’s already said that, didn’t he? He had more fun than he thinks he had any right to have, because he’s _not_ supposed to do stuff like _that_ with _Dean_. That’s what he should say, but he can’t get the words out. Why doesn’t Castiel’s tongue want to work?

The silence must go on for too long, because Dean ends it with a soft, almost painful sound. “Oh. I guess I should be the one apologizing, then.”

“ _No_!” Castiel answer is so sharp and loud that it makes even Gabriel and Nike jump in surprise. “No, Dean, no. I – I _liked_ dancing with you.” And that is the crux of this whole problem.

“I liked dancing with you too, Cas.” The relief is apparent in his voice. He’s quite for a minute before softly adding; “If you ever want to do it again, I’d be happy to.”

A twinge of longing makes his heart ache and Castiel bites his lip. He’d like to try dancing with Dean again someday, but this just – this isn’t the right time. If his situation was different – if he was sure he could guarantee Dean’s safety – then maybe he would. But he can’t and he cares too much for Dean to ever put him at risk like that.

Castiel gets up from the bed and moves to shut the door on Gabriel’s wide, interested eyes so he can’t snoop any more on the conversation. “I – I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He leans back against the door with a sigh. “Dancing with you was – It was _nice_ , but it’s not –” It’s not supposed to _mean_ anything, but it is and that’s the problem.

The last thing he expects to hear right now is a soft laugh. “Cas, it’s okay. We were just _friends_ dancing together. I guarantee that half the people in the club were friends dancing with _friends_. Dancing doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” How in the world does Dean _not_ sound disappointed about that? Castiel certainly is, and he’s the one saying they shouldn’t dance together again!

He makes his way back to the bed again. “I don’t – I don’t know, Dean.”

“Well, if you ever want to do it again, we can make another date of it.”

Dean is adamant to test Castiel’s willpower, it seems. He drops to rest his elbows on his knees and covers his face with one hand. “Date?”

A flustered little laugh makes the line between them crackle. “I mean, well, we’re not _dating_. I meant, like, an – an _appointment_ or something?” Dean makes a nervous noise that isn’t quite a laugh again. “Last night wasn’t a _date_ , it was just a –”

Castiel chews his bottom lip, staring at the floor between his fingers as Dean stumbles over his words. He understands the point being made, even if Dean isn’t quite getting it across like he wants to. In this particular instance, the smart thing would be to put his foot down and say that _no_ they will not have any other ‘ _dates_ ’. There will be nothing like last night or Valentine’s Day again between them because they’re _friends_ and they’re not the kind of friends who practice _dating_ with each other.

And yet he doesn’t want to say that. Quite literally, he _can’t_ say that. The words just won’t form on his tongue and his mouth refuses to speak them. He’s not feeling quite so guilty about last night now that Dean has pointed out that he did it while viewing them as nothing more than friends, but he’s not feeling tip top about this. It’s hard to feel normal when _he_ isn’t seeing it like that. As far as Castiel cares, what he did last night was far from _just friends_ and he wants to do it again. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he hates that so much.

“If –if you want to call last night –” No, he shouldn’t. “Or future things like that –” Which there shouldn’t be, but _practice_ isn’t putting Dean at risk, is it? “If you want to call stuff like that a _date_ , you can.” Castiel thumps the palm of his hand against his forehead because _why is he like this_. “Just like we did with Valentine’s Day.”

Silence follows and he flops back on the bed, draping an arm over his eyes. “But we’re not _dating_.”

“I know, Cas.” Dean’s voice is soft and hardly there, and Castiel wishes he was imagining the note of disappointment there. “But okay. We can do that.”

“Just promise me that you’re not still waiting for me.” He can’t bring his voice above much more than a whisper; worried that if he speaks any louder he might give away how badly he wishes he could say that they _were_ dating.

Dean pauses before he sighs. “I promise that I’m not waiting for you.” To his credit, he _does_ sound sincere, but it’s not nearly as comforting as Castiel thought it would be. “To be honest, if you hadn’t been there last night, then I most definitely would have been dancing with at least one of those guys who asked me to.”

While Dean might be laughing, all his words do is bring back the queasy feeling that turns Castiel’s stomach. The burn of bile stings the back of his throat and he swallows against it. “I see.” He hates that he can’t even force himself to sound normal. A dirty, dark feeling is spreading black through his chest.

“That was a _joke_ , Cas.” Dean huffs; half laugh and half sigh. “I’m joking.”

“I’m sure you were.” With some effort, Castiel manages to force himself to sound at least somewhat chipper. Sadly, it comes out sounding far too fake for his liking. “I should let you get back to sleep now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine.” Dean muffles a yawn. “I’ll talk to you later then?”

Castiel hums and nods despite knowing that he can’t be seen. “Tomorrow night.”

After their goodbyes, Castiel throws his phone aside and presses his palms into his eyes. That conversation didn’t go _at all_ in the direction that he wanted it to. At this rate, he’s just going to keep digging himself deeper and deeper until he and Dean are actually dating. All because he’s too weak to resist his own desires. He’s never been this stupid before and he blames his emotions for it entirely.

Several long minutes drag by before his bedroom door creaks. Castiel doesn’t bother to look, but Nike does jump up onto his bed a few moments later. Gabriel clears his throat slightly, indicating that he’s still here and still very much interested in the phone call. “So, what’s this I happened to have heard about you dating Dean now?”

Oh God _dammit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Origami Dragon Walkthrough](https://donyaquick.deviantart.com/art/Origami-Dragon-Instructions-122972885) | [Purple Starfucker Shot](https://delishably.com/beverages/kickass-shots-delicious-good-tasting-shots)* | [Tropical Sunset](https://realhousemoms.com/tropical-sunset/)*  
>  Disclaimer: please drink responsibly.
> 
> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥
> 
> PS: Chapter 29 is going to be a very _revealing_ chapter ;3


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Saturday – March 12 th, 2016_ **

On a morning when he gets off work at eight o’clock, Dean’s has a routine he usually follows. It’s a good routine and he sometimes hates deviating from it because by that time of the morning, after staying up all night, he’s _exhausted_. He prefers just going home, taking a nice hot shower, and going straight to bed. Maybe, just _maybe_ , he’ll have a little snack or something. But that’s it. If he can avoid it, he doesn’t want to do _anything else_.

Today is not such a day and Dean is beyond grumpy before he even got home. Charlie is _very_ lucky that she stayed out of reach when she came in this morning as he was leaving the station. If he’d managed to get his hands on her, he might have throttled her a little bit. Not a lot, but just enough to put the fear of God in her. It’s Charlie’s fault that his nice comfortable bed is calling to him as he changes into sweats and a t-shirt after his shower.

The call goes unanswered as Dean heads downstairs. He’s not going to be allowed to go to sleep for another few hours yet, and it’s all Charlie’s fault. Lately she’s been complaining about their internet and how it’s not _fast_ enough for her liking. Apparently it’s such a bother to her that she absolutely _has_ to have it upgraded. She wants it so badly that she’s footing the bill for the upgrade and taking care of everything. Well, _almost_ everything.

Charlie booked the appointment for a day she was supposed to be off, and then ended up sleeping through it earlier this week. Since _she_ missed the appointment, Dean is now the one suffering for it. The only time that Charlie could rebook as soon as possible was today – a day where both her and Jo are working and he’s going to be the only one home. She’s just lucky that she managed to land an early morning appointment and Dean should hopefully still have half the morning and most of the afternoon to sleep before he has to get up and go to Cas’s place.

It’s been a few weeks since they went to the club together and things have been maybe just a little bit awkward between them. Of course they still hang out basically every weekend, and they see each other multiple nights a week when Dean’s on shift, but there’s this _distance_ between them now. Honestly, with how things were going, he was kinda hoping that wouldn’t happen. Cas _did_ say that he enjoyed himself and that he was okay with having practice days. Mostly, though, he’s just kept any kind of touching between them to a minimum.

All they’ve done since the night of the club is _hug_. Even those have been short, stiff, and completely different from anything Dean had hoped for. Cas was so ridiculously touchy-feely at the club. It gave Dean a taste of what _could be_. Half of him wishes he’d taken a kiss, because that’s probably the only time Cas ever would have kissed him, but even just _thinking_ like that makes his stomach turn. There’s no way he could ever do that to one of his best friends.

The worst thing, though, is that hot and cold with Cas is driving him just a little bit crazy. One night Dean thinks he’s making headway, and then the next he’s told he’s not. And the hardest part is trying not to let it consume his whole life like relationship drama usually does. Dean went through all of that in high school and that’s all supposed to be _behind_ him. And yet, here he is, talking shit out with his best friend of forever when he doesn’t know what the hell to do.

Except that he _hasn’t_ been talking with Charlie about this. As far as she knows, things are going great with Cas since club night. Dean just hasn’t had the heart to talk to her about all of this. She’s in the budding stages of a relationship with Gilda and he doesn’t want his drama to drag her down from her happy high. The two of them have gone on a couple dates and Dean knows for a fact that Gilda has spent the night last week when he and Jo had a shift together.

In truth, he might be just a _little_ bit jealous that things are going so well for her. Dean’s been orbiting planet relationship for _months_ with Cas and all he’s gotten out of it is – Well, okay. He’s got a really great friendship out of it, but a man has needs and his _friendship_ isn’t scratching those itches. It’s just really hard when he wants _more_ and that person he wants more with keeps sending him mixed signals. Granted, he’s probably sending Cas mixed signals too. In a way. Oh, who the fuck knows anymore?

At least Dean has Jo to be single with. As far as he knows, she’s not actively looking for anything right now. Last he heard, she’s really focused on _herself_ at the moment. He can understand that. She did a bunch of random dating in high school and wasn’t satisfied with any of it. Her singlehood is by choice and Dean can respect that. Plus, she really just doesn’t have the time for a relationship between the station and everything that she’s doing with her mom at _The Roadhouse_.

That’s actually a subject Dean is going to broach when he hangs out with Cas tonight. Ellen’s bar-cum-restaurant will be re-opening up later this month and Dean’s been trying to work up the nerves to ask Cas to be his date-but-not-a-date to opening night. Since he’s practically family, Dean already has a booth reserved for four and he’s excited to go. Originally he was going to take Charlie, but it turns out that she’s going to have to work. And he can’t take Jo because she’s basically taking up a side job and she’ll be waiting on the tables.

Actually, in truth, Cas was Dean’s first choice to take with him, but he wanted to try and take a step back from doing too many _date_ type things with him. He had to go through Charlie, Jo, and Sammy before deciding that he really doesn’t have anyone else to ask to go with. Well, not really. Sam _is_ going, and he’s going to be bringing a date of his own. But that still leaves an empty seat on Dean’s side of the booth and he didn’t much feel like third wheeling it for his little brother.

Dean’s parents are going too, but they’re going to share a booth with Bobby. He’s not sure if Bobby’s going to bring a date of his own, but if he does then it’s probably going to be that neighbour of his. She’s sweet on him and it would be _hilarious_ to see Bobby on a date. Either way, their booth is full up and Dean can’t just squeeze himself into it so Sam and his date can get a table for two or something.

And that’s why he’s going to ask Cas to go with him. First choice, but asked last, and Dean is going to keep his fingers crossed that it goes well. This is the first date-but-not-a-date since the club. It will be their unofficial third date, or possibly the forth. Or maybe they’ve gone on way more dates than that if they include all the times that they’ve just hung out at each other’s places for food, games, and movies. Home hang outs like that blur the line between date and not a date, but it’s not like Dean treated them like a _date_ every time.

Whatever. He’ll keep his fingers crossed that the awkwardness between them doesn’t keep Cas from wanting to go to _The Roadhouse_ with him. It just sucks that he won’t find out until tonight – if he survives the day. God, but Dean hopes that the technician is on time. They’re supposed to be here sometime between nine o’clock and eleven o’clock, but he knows how they are. Technicians are _rarely_ on time but he’s just going to have to hope against hope that he’ll at least be able to get to sleep before noon. That should leave him enough time to get a decent amount of sleep before heading over to Cas’s place around supper time.

It would be really nice if the technician could get here earlier rather than later. Dean doesn’t have the first damn clue how long it takes to upgrade the internet. Is the technician just switching out their equipment or is he going to have to do something like laying new cables? Is the upgrade taking place inside the house or outside? Charlie didn’t give him those kind of details, and none of it matters in the end. No matter what the technician has to do, Dean needs to somehow keep himself away until everything is said and done.

Now that he’s had his after-work shower, the only thing that will keep him from falling asleep while waiting is caffeine. He’s freshened up but still feels like _shit_ as he brews up a half pot of coffee. It won’t taste even half as good as the stuff he gets at the café, but it’s better than nothing and will get the job done. If he falls asleep and misses the technician, Charlie will probably kill him. It’ll be a hell of a fight, that’s for sure; particularly because _she_ slept through the first one earlier this week and now he’s been left to clean up her messes.

The coffee takes a little bit to really wake him up, but eventually he gets a little burst of energy. By then it’s almost nine o’clock and the only thing Dean can think to do is clean the ever loving _shit_ out of the house. And the best place to start for that is outside. It’s warmed up considerably over the last few weeks and the vast majority of the snow is gone now. Dean heads outside in a light jacket and his boots. It’s just chilly enough that it helps to wake him up even more.

His unnecessary chores begins with sweeping out the garage, the walkway, and the driveway. It keeps him busy and, according to his phone, it’s well after nine o’clock by the time he’s done. There’s no sign of the technician just yet, but that was more or less expected. He send Charlie a quick message letting her know that no one’s showed up and she can expect updates every half hour until they do.

Since he’s already outside, Dean figures he might as well clean out the inside of the garbage and recycling bins. It’s something that he only ever does  once a month to keep them from getting stinky. The recycling bin gets more _sticky_ than stinky, but it doesn’t hurt to wash it out too. He does it with a diluted bleach solution and he has to wash his hands like ten times afterwards to make them stop smelling like it – even though he wears rubber gloves when he does it.

When he does everything that he can think to do outside, and the technician still hasn’t arrived, Dean heads back to the considerably warmer indoors. He needs another cup of coffee to keep him going as he starts on the chores in the living room. That’s the next best place to work on so he can hear if the technician arrives and turns out to be one of those assholes who knocks instead of ringing the doorbell.

They keep the house pretty spic and span with little daily chores, so Dean only really has the big _once a month_ cleans that he can do right now. That means digging out the vacuum cleaner and pushing all the furniture out of the way so he can get underneath them. Since that’s a pretty loud chore, Dean does it while glancing out the window every few minutes to make sure that someone hasn’t pulled into the driveway or parked out on the street.

When he finishes with the floors, he vacuums the furniture too. They don’t really _need_ it, but who knows how many _skin cells_ have layered up on it from them sitting around all day. Once the furniture is all back in place and the vacuum is put away, there isn’t really much else left to do in the living room. Dean has another cup of coffee while he wipes down every surface in both the living room and the kitchen with a dust cloth.

It’s _much_ closer to eleven o’clock by the time he drops onto the couch with an exhausted huff. There’s still no technician and that’s starting to irk him. What’s the point of booking the earliest slot in the day when no one comes during it? Dean is maybe more than just a little bit annoyed by this. Half of it is probably just irritation caused by his exhaustion, but at this point he doesn’t care. Try as he might, he can’t dredge up the necessary empathy to think of things from the technician’s point of view. It’s not their fault that the company books too many appointments in the same time slot.

Dean sips through yet another cup of coffee while scrolling through the apps on his phone. He uses it as a cool down period; calming himself down a bit before he tries giving their internet provider a call. And _of course_ he gets put on hold to wait in a queue. For shits and giggles, he keeps track of the time just to see how long he ends up waiting. He puts his phone on speaker and leaves it on the kitchen counter while he takes his time with organizing various drawers and cupboards. At this point, all he wants to do is keep moving and _doing_ or even the coffee is going to fail him and he’s going to pass out on the couch.

Half an hour. He’s on hold and waiting for _half an hour_ just to be given an apology because the technician is running late and should hopefully be here within an hour or so. An hour is noon. An hour or _so_ is pushing one o’clock. That will leave Dean roughly five hours to get some sleep. That might be enough for someone on a normal nine to five job to function through the rest of the evening, but dean hasn’t slept since his late evening nap yesterday.

In the long run, it wasn’t a very helpful nap. Dean’s been awake since about nine o’clock in the evening and the exhaustion is starting to take its toll. The technician being delayed is really just the icing on the cake of what has been a very long and very busy week. Every shift has been either rolling out on calls or heading out to do presentations for students or with the public. Add in all the paperwork he has to do between every other thing and he’s just _really_ tired.

Maybe he should just reschedule with Cas for tomorrow. If he did that, then he could sleep for a solid twelve hours or longer and no one could stop him. It’s really tempting, but Dean has been looking forward to hanging out with Cas all week. They’re going to watch _The Fifth Element_ because apparently Cas hasn’t ever seen it and that is just a damn _shame_. That won’t fly while he’s friends with Dean and the cinematic education much continue.

With movies in mind, Dean reorganizes his DVD collection while he waits for the technician. There isn’t too much to do there, but a few have been placed in the boxes out of order and he fixes them. The DVD for _The Fifth Element_ gets shoved in his boot so that he remembers to take it when he leaves later on. Judging by how little sleep it looks like he’s going to get, he doesn’t want to risk getting all the way to Cas’s place before realizing that he forgot it.

Dean is in the middle of doing laundry when the technician finally shows up. By then he’s done a couple loads already, vacuumed the entire upstairs, re-organized his bedroom closet, and re-organize the pantry in the kitchen. It’s pushing three o’clock in the afternoon when the doorbell rings and Dean literally has to _force_ himself to be civil. Again, it’s not personally the technicians fault and he has to remind himself of that as he shows the guy where the equipment is set up in the basement.

While the technician works, Dean drapes himself across the couch and sends Charlie a _very_ unhappy text message. **_I COULD HAVE BEEN SLEEPING THIS WHOLE TIME_** and he follows it up with at least five red faced angry emojis.

Since she’s on shift, she really shouldn’t be answering him, but his phone vibrates in his hand not more than a few moments after he hit send. **_Don’t kill him._**

 ** _Sorely tempted to but I know it’s not his fault…_** To that message, Dean adds an emoji with a little puff of a sigh by its mouth.

 ** _You’re just cranky because you’re tired._** Charlie sends one message and then immediately follows it up with another. **_Or hungry._** And then she sends a picture of a Snickers chocolate bar with another message under that. **_Eat a Snickers. You’re not you when you’re hungry._**

Dean _wants_ to keep being angry, but that does make him crack a smile. **_Fuck you._**

 ** _Don’t worry baby, mama Charlie will contact the big mean ISP and get a discount for the all these inconveniences you’ve suffered._** She ends with a laughing emoji and Dean thinks it looks _way_ too smug for its own good.

He rolls his eyes and fires back another message. **_You’d better coz YOU’RE paying for all of it._** That was the deal, after all. She pays for the upgrade, and then she pays the difference between the old internet bill and the new one. It’s going to take some math to do that in the future since they basically add up all the monthly bills and then divide it by three, but they’ll do it because this is completely her idea.

She answers with a shocked emoji and Dean considers that an acceptable place to end the conversation. He’s too tired to really continue it anymore and he’s perfectly happy to just lay on the couch and listen to the technician dick around in the basement. There’s not _much_ sound, but it’s better than just straight silence. Anything like that and he might get lulled into sleep. It’s already difficult enough to keep his eyes open. He can literally feel his eyelids drooping, too heavy to stay open. His cell phone is the only thing that’s going to stave off the sleep and he starts fiddling with his various apps again.

The technician is done and gone within half an hour. As soon as he’s out the door, Dean is on his feet and in bed before the guy’s truck is out of the driveway. The alarms are already set on his phone and he barely takes the time needed to put it on the charging dock. He’s asleep moments after his head hits the pillow and it’s the best feeling in the goddamn world. In comparison, waking up a few hours later is literally the worst he has ever felt and Dean is dead on his damn feet until he can get his hands on more coffee. That’s the only way he’s going to survive dinner and a movie.

Rather than brew another pot of coffee, Dean holds off until he manages to get to the café. He gets a coffee from Tessa before he heads upstairs. Before he knocks, he slaps his cheeks a few times in an attempt to try and look a little more awake than he feels. The last thing he wants is for Cas to feel bad that he still showed up despite being tired.

It doesn’t really help. The first thing Cas does when he opens the door is look him over and comment on it. “You look tired.”

“Don’t even get me started.” Dean muffles a yawn behind his coffee cup before taking a hard swig of it. He shuffles inside and hands over an origami Pikachu and the DVD, because it’s Saturday and he isn’t about to break tradition. “You know that technician I mentioned last night?”

“Yes.” Cas nods and carefully pinches at the origami ears of the Pikachu to perk them up a bit. “I remember that you said he was supposed to come in the morning.”

He hangs up his coat and follows Cas further into the apartment. “Yeah, well, they have very different definitions of the word ‘ _morning_ ’. It was more like three o’clock in the afternoon.”

Cas ducks into his bedroom to drop off the origami before leading Dean to the living room. “That sounds terrible. Did you sleep before then?”

“I got, like, three hours of sleep at the most before I came over here.” He shrugs and pauses to pick up Nike as she starts curling against his ankles.

Gabriel is sitting at the small desk in the living room; his headphones on. He doesn’t look away from the screen, but he does raise one hand in a small wave. Dean waves back on his way to the couch, but he’s not even sure if Gabriel even notices it. There’s a stack of time cards sitting next to the keyboard and he’s probably concentrating on doing café things.

“You should have just cancelled, Dean.” Cas shakes his head as he takes the DVD to the player. “You know I would have understood. We could have always rescheduled to tomorrow.”

“Not an option.” Dean drops onto one end of the couch with a sigh. Nike stands in his laps for a few moments while he pets her until she lies down. “I’d never cancel on you, Cas. You know that.”

There’s definitely a blush rising in Cas’s cheeks as he crosses the room to sit on the other side of the couch. Since it’s barely more than a loveseat, they’re basically sitting side by side now. Nike abandons Dean’s lap to lay down between them. She purrs loudly as her tail twitches back and forth, tapping against the side of Cas’s thigh.

Cas clears his throat and taps at the stack of games piled on the table. “Are you okay to play any of these or would you prefer that we just get right to watching the movie? I don’t want to keep you here any longer than you want to be.”

“Careful there, Cas.” Dean murmurs into his coffee. “Say it like that and I might never leave.” He laughs at the confused little frown that gets as Cas tries to figure out what he means. “Anyways, as long as your game doesn’t make me think too much, I can play it. Anything strategy is out.”

With a sigh, Cas removes all but one of the games and places them under the table. He grabs one of the knit mice that Dean made for Nike’s Christmas gift and he throws it at Gabriel to get his attention. As soon as the headphones are off, he holds up the one game left on the table. “Do you want to play Uno with us?”

Dean groans and flaps a hand at the game. “Dude, that’s a _strategy_ game.”

“Hardly.” He huffs and opens the package. “All you do is put down the cards and hope they don’t have better cards than you. The most strategy you’ll have is deciding whether or not to use your effect cards immediately or save them for later.”

While he does have a point, Dean still grunts in disapproval. It’s more thinking than he feels like he’s capable of, but he’ll tough through it. Playing Uno is almost second nature to him now. They have it at the station and play it at least once a week between calls. He’s such an old pro at it that the only way Cas and Gabe even stand a chance is because he’s tired as all hell. Though Cas _does_ seem to have a horseshoe up his as when it comes to games. This might not be as easy as he thinks it will be.

Gabriel sighs, but he closes the laptop and pushes away from the desk. “I _guess_ I’ll play. If you want your asses handed to you by a Uno Master, I’ll happily school you little turds.”

“Thanks for the flashback to nineteen ninety-nine.” Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning around the edge of his coffee cup.

“I’m gunning for your first, Winchester.” He points a threatening finger while wheeling the office chair over to the coffee table.

As soon as he’s within reach, Gabriel snatches up the remote and turns on the TV. He flips through until he finds some hits of the ninety’s channel to listen to during the game. While Cas shuffles the cards, Dean digs out his cell phone to place a delivery order to the only Chinese food place in town. They only actually start playing after he’s hang up and of course Gabriel opens the gates with a goddamn plus two. And, because they’re going clockwise, Dean gets hit with it.

“That’s just fucking _rude_.” He grumbles under his breath while drawing two more cards. Not only does he now have nine cards, but his actual turn gets skipped. “How come you gotta kick a man when he’s down like that, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gabriel shrugs with a grin and Dean realizes that he actually doesn’t know what’s being referenced.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to waiting for Cas to figure out which card he wants to play. “Buckle up, buttercup, because I’ve got a _fun_ story for you.”

It takes Dean a solid twenty minutes and two who games – Cas winning both – to conclude his rant about his bad luck with maintenance guys and service technicians showing up on time. The only service people that he can really rely on are food delivery guys. They’ve never let him down before. Well, except for that one guy who got in a fender bender on the way to bring him a pizza and was a good hour late because of that. He tipped the guy extra that night and the pizza place gave him a heavy discount too.

They’re going into their third game when Dean decides to broach the subject of _The Roadhouse_. “Have either of you ever heard of it?”

Gabriel taps his card against his chin; looking thoughtful. “I think so. It’s just outside of town, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s like five minutes East on Highway Two.” He tosses a blue four and glances at Cas. “It’s been under construction for almost a year now. Ellen, the owner, wanted to do a total rehaul of literally everything. Gutted the place and built back up from the bones.”

Cas throws down another blue card, but the doesn’t look up from his hand. “How come?”

“Because it was an ancient place when she bought it, I guess.” Dean shrugs and fakes like he’s reorganizing his hand to keep busy. “I think she was getting sick of all the shit falling apart and figured it would be better to close for a year and redo _everything_ instead of just doing it in bits and pieces for the next several years.”

“And why are you bringing it up now?” He asks almost absentmindedly, watching closely as Gabriel throws down a wild card and changes the colour to green.

Man, this is hard to do with Gabriel in the room. Dean swallows thickly and drops a green five. “Well, Renovations are basically done and I’ve got a booth reserved for the grand re-opening.”

“That’s nice.” Cas hums and throws down a red five, making Dean doubt if he’s _actually_ listening or just answering on autopilot here.

Gabriel must have the same thought. He rolls his eyes and gives Dean a pitiable look. With a sigh, he flicks his next card at Cas instead of putting it on the pile. “Pay attention, Cassie.”

Cas looks up from his cards with a frown. He glances back and forth between the two of them before realization dawns. “Oh! Are you – are you asking me to accompany you?”

Dean shrugs and picks up Gabriel’s card to put it on the discard pile properly. “Well, I hadn’t actually _asked_ yet, but that was the general gist of where I was going with the conversation, yeah.” He throws down his own card to pass the round to Cas. “Charlie works and Jo is going to be busy with serving. I have a four seater booth for you, me, and Sammy – if you come.”

“Who would be our forth?”

That’s not a ‘ _no_ ’! Is there stint of awkwardness over now? Can they go back to being awesomely confusing with each other again? “Whoever Sam invites as his date, I guess. My money is on Jess.”

Gabriel snorts loudly before throwing his head back with a laugh. “So I _haven’t_ been imagining the doe eyes he keeps giving her, huh?”

Dean grins, briefly sharing an older brother moment of camaraderie with him. “Oh _absolutely_. He’s totally completely gone on her. It took me _ages_ to get him to stop gushing about her every time they have a shift together.”

“Falling for Creatures must run in the family, huh?”

The way Gabriel says it is totally a dig at Dean. It’s obvious enough that even Cas picks up on it. He shoots his brother a wicked glare and whips his next card at him with deadly accuracy. With enough practice, Cas could totally be on Gambit levels of card throwing. For Dean, however, it takes a few seconds for what was said to really sink in.

“Excuse me, what?”

Gabriel pauses while throwing down his card, looking up with an eyebrow raised. “You didn’t know that Jess is a Creature?”

“I had no clue!” Dean sits forward a little too eagerly, ready to soak up any and all Creature knowledge that they can give him. “What is she? Am I allowed to know that?”

Cas shares a look with Gabriel before shrugging. “I don’t believe it’s a secret, but it’s not something that she’s obvious about. I hide mine for certain reasons, but she doesn’t say what she is because of the stigmata generally associated to her species.”

Oh man, this is getting juicy. Of course Dean isn’t going to blah about it, but he wants to _know_ now. It’s bad enough that he’s been friends with Cas for nearly seven months now and he _still_ doesn’t know what he is. That’s a whole different kettle of fish and he’s going to let the comment made about it pass. When Cas is ready to tell him, he will.

Gabriel scratches the back of his neck as he slumps back in his seat. “Well, all our employees know. Frankly, I figured Sam would have told you too. She doesn’t ask people not to talk about it, but it’s not something she puts on display. I guess it’s okay?” He shares another look with Cas before turning to Dean. “She’s a Siren. For the record, we _do_ trust her not to use her Siren wiles to manipulate our staff, but we still provide all our employees with a protective amulet that they wear for their safety. Just in case. But, I can’t stress enough that we _absolutely_ trust Jess.”

Cas nods in agreement and twists on the couch to face Dean. “She really dislikes her heritage and the reputation that Sirens have. As far as I know, she has _never_ used her charming songs on anyone.”

Dean puts down his cards so he can hold up both hands; putting the game on a temporary hold. “Whoa, whoa, _whoa_. You’re not being specific enough here, you guys. What kind of Siren is she?”

There are at least two different kinds that Dean knows of and that’s only because he accidentally educated himself about them when he went through his _The Little Mermaid_ phase in elementary school. He just really wanted to know if Mermaids were a legit Creature or not. It was a nice surprise to learn that there _are_ Mermaids, with the fishy-bottoms and the human-tops, but they’re also known as Sirens for their mind-melting songs that charm sailors to their watery graves.

That’s the most popular kind of Siren, but they’re most often referred to as Mermaids. Another kind of Siren is the shapeshifting, venom spitting kind that reads their victim’s minds to become what they want most. There is an even lesser known version of Sirens where they’re like half bird people or something, but not too much is known about them because they’re often confused with Harpies.

Cas and Gabriel share a weird look before turning the same expression on him. Gabriel shrugs. “None?”

“What?” Dean frowns and sits back again, slightly disappointed. “That doesn’t make any sense. There are only, like, three kinds of Sirens.”

“She’s not a Mermaid, but I think one of her ancestors might have been?” Gabriel tilts his head back to look at the ceiling; casually stroking his throat with his cards while he thinks. “I know she doesn’t shapeshift or have venom, and I think she’s actually allergic to birds?”

“I believe you’re right.” Cas nods in agreement. “Remember when we wanted to get a couch for the café and we were talking about pillows to put on it? She was insistent that if we did go through with it then we had better not get anything with feathers in it.” He reaches over to tap Dean’s cards, just as a reminder to keep playing. “If it helps, I don’t believe she has a Mermaidian form either. It all depends on what generation of Siren she is, but I think she only has the ability to charm via song.”

Okay, that makes sense. She really never gave off that feeling that Creatures usually have. Even Cas, who for all intents and purposes looks entirely Human gives off an otherworldly kind of sense. Dean subtly looks him over again as he picks up his cards. His curiosity is through the roof, but there’s really nothing that jumps out as being any one kind of Creature.

He drops a card without really paying too much attention to it. “I wonder why Sam never told me about Jess. He definitely never mentioned having to wear a protective amulet.” It takes all of a few seconds for the realization to hit. “Oh, wait. I know why.”

At the curious looks, he sighs and ducks his head. “It’s because of our dad. He never would have let Sammy work here if he knew there was a Siren too.” Dean winces and finds it way too hard to look at either of them. This is something about his dad he’s not too proud of. “It was bad enough for Dad when he learned that one of Sam’s bosses was a Creature.”

Cas frowns is so deep it crease his face in, like, five different places. “A racist, is he?”

“Oh yeah, most definitely.” Dean nods a little too enthusiastically, but it really does sum up his dad to a tee. “I mean, he’s way better now than he used to be, so I’m told, because he’s had to work with them at the station for a long time. But he’s still…” It’s not a good thing and he trails off while wiggling his hand in a vague gesture.

Both Gabe and Cas nod in agreement and the conversation kind of falls flat after that. Dean turns his focus on trying to win. He is, however, mildly impressed that Sam managed to keep a secret from him for so long. That means he’s respecting the rights of Creatures the way they ought to be and Dean likes it. Of course that doesn’t change a thing about how he thinks about Jess, but it’s just neat to learn something new about someone he knows.

They only continue playing Uno until the food gets there. Round three is still going and not a single one of them has gotten close to winning. Dean is more than happy to concede a three way tie on it if it means that he can dig into his kung pow beef and noodles without worrying about getting hit with a pick up four. Gabriel scoots his way back to the desk to eat his own shrimp chow mein without blocking the movie for them.

Dean tucks up in one corner of the couch with his take out box. Half of it got dumped onto a plate for Cas and Dean took some of Cas’s veal and chicken fried rice to add to his box. It’s a mix of things, but they’re all delicious and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest. There’s not much more he can ask for besides good company, good food, and a good movie.

The one downside is that Dean gets maybe just a little _too_ comfortable. The food becomes a warm weight in his belly and, without realizing what’s happening, he kind of ends up falling asleep in the middle of the movie with his Chinese food still in one hand and a fork in the other.

_** ** _

Of all the movies that Dean has ever made him watch, Castiel is almost certain that _The Fifth Element_ is the best one yet. There have been some hits and some misses out of everything they’ve watched, and this is most definitely a _hit_. He’s engrossed in the humour, the story, and the special effects within minutes – which is quite the feat. Even Gabriel isn’t asking questions during the movie, which is something he usually does when Castiel watches with him.

He has no concept of time anymore. It feels like forever yet also just a blink before a fortune cookie is bouncing off his shoulder. Castiel tears himself away from the movie to glance at Gabriel with a confused frown. He’s scooted back to the coffee table to get his own cookie. Without words, he gestures to Castiel’s right; his eyebrows doing all the talking necessary. Despite how he hates being interrupted when watching movie, Castiel rolls his eyes and does as he’s told.

To his great surprise, and a little bit of delight, he finds Dean fast asleep in his corner of the couch. His legs are drawn up onto the cushions and he’s hunched over with his head propped up on his arm. A fork is still loosely gripped in one of his hands, but his Chinese food container is dangerously close to spilling onto the floor.

Castiel reaches over and carefully extracts both the box and the fork. He places them on the table as quietly as he can and puts a finger to his lips, shushing Gabriel at the first soft snort of laughter. Immediately he looks insulted, going so far as to press a hand to his chest.

“Like I would be _that_ rude.” Gabriel whispers and waves a hand in Dean’s direction again. “I heard how tired he is. I say, let ‘em sleep until the end of the movie.”

That’s a good idea, but Castiel still shushes him again. He carefully sits back in his own spot, doing his best not to disturb Dean in the slightest. Nike mews softly and kneads the side of his leg. Aside from having her own meal at the same time as them, she has hardly moved from her spot nestled comfortably between the two of them on the couch. Castiel scratches her behind the ears to placate her so she doesn’t meow anymore. She can be quite loud when she wants to be.

With that taken care of, he rewinds the movie back a few minutes to make sure that he doesn’t miss anything important. Dean will likely wake up by the time they reach the end of the movie, if not sooner. Until then, Castiel is sure that he wouldn’t mind not watching it with them. If he _does_ mind, then they can watch it together again another day. This is one of the few movies that Castiel would happily watch again. It would be nice to see what he didn’t catch the first time.

Surprisingly, by the end of what turns out to be an _excellent_ movie, Dean hasn’t stirred in the slightest. Gabriel pauses the DVD in the middle of the credits and spins around in his chair. Castiel is already on his feet; trying to collect the various containers of Chinese food as quietly as he can. Despite the movie being over, he doesn’t want to disturb Dean quite yet. They can do that after everything is put away and all he’ll need to do is stretch and go home.

“So, what are you going to do with Sleeping Beauty over there?” Gabriel takes half the dishes and containers but still whispers the whole time.

“Nothing.” He Castiel shushes him again as he gets the games from under the table and brings everything to the kitchen. Gabriel, of course, follows him. Instead of letting him ask any more questions, Castiel trades the food for the games and points at the door to the stairs. “Not another word or you might wake Dean. Just go put those back in the café and we’ll discuss it when you return.”

For a brief moment, Gabriel makes a face like he’s going to argue. Thankfully, he merely huffs and does as he’s told. Castiel sighs quietly to himself and puts off having to wake Dean for a little longer by taking time to put the food away in proper containers and put the rest in fridges. He’s really just holding out hope that Dean will wake up on his own, because disturbing someone who looks so soft and – well – and _adorable_ seems likes such a crime.

At the point that the kitchen is clean and all garbage has been disposed of, Nike has made herself known again. She meows rather loudly, purely because he’s in the kitchen and she likely thinks that she could be fed. Of course she’s already _been_ fed, but it’s the begging that has added a few too many pounds since he brought her home. That’s okay, though. She’s not _overweight_ , and it’s certainly adorable to have a plump, fluffy kitten around.

“How about we talk now?” Gabriel announces himself with another whisper as he walks back into the apartment. “Wait a – Are you feeding Nike again?”

Why does Gabriel always seem to walk in at the _exact_ time that Castiel is giving her a treat? “I am _not_ feeding here again. It’s just a little of the chicken from the fried rice.”

“You’re going to make her fat.” He shakes his head with a loud tsk-tsk before scooping Nike from the floor. “I’m going to go get changed and ready for bed. If Dean _still_ isn’t awake by then, I’m going to wake him up myself and it won’t be all sunshine and rainbows like if you did it.”

Castiel shoots a glare at Gabriel’s back as he heads off into his bedroom, taking Nike with him. He does have a point though. Someone is going to have to wake Dean up eventually and that someone is going to have to be him. With a sigh, he returns to the living room and immediately changes his mind. Dean hasn’t moved an inch. In fact, he’s actually started drooling on his arm a little bit. It’s a little bit gross but a little bit cute too. He just looks so soft and peaceful while sleeping and it would be an absolute shame to disturb him in the slightest.

“Okay.” Gabriel elbows him in the side as he shuffles into the living room, Nike in his arms again and slippers on his feet. “ _Now_ what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get him a blanket.” He sighs and turns away before he does something stupid like run his hand through Dean’s hair or kiss him on the forehead, because those are urges that are _quickly_ rising. “We’re just going to let him sleep.”

Before he can get more than a few steps away, Gabriel has him by the arm. He puts Nike down and turns to make a sharp gesture at Dean. “Look at him, Cassie. He’s going to fuck up his back sleeping on the couch like a pretzel. Just wake him up and send him home.”

Yes, that is exactly what Castiel should do, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He shakes his head and pulls his arm free. “It’s just as dangerous to drive sleepy as it is to drive drunk.”

“I have my doubts on that.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, but he does step back and he raises both hands in defeat. “If you want to let a _firefighter_ have a sore back for the next week, then go ahead and let him sleep there. I gave my warning so it won’t be on me if he sprains something and burns alive.”

Of course he just _had_ to put it that way. Castiel swallows against the burn of bile in the back of his throat as his stomach drops. He turns on his heel to deliver a hard punch to Gabriel’s shoulder, sending him staggering back a few steps. There are some things that you _don’t_ joke about, and that is one of them. His intent must get across, because Gabriel doesn’t say another word. He does, however, shoot him a rather spectacular pout.

Something inside of Castiel turns soft and squishy when he glances at Dean again. As loath as he is to admit it in any case, Gabriel is absolutely correct. He can’t let Dean hurt himself by sleeping like this. The only problem is that he just _really_ doesn’t want to wake him up right now. Dean was just so tired, and he’s been like that all week. Castiel had his doubts that the late night coffee runs were even doing anything to help during shift nights.

With a sigh, he forces himself to turn away and continue to his bedroom. Thankfully it’s clean as is physically possible as he had _the sleep_ just yesterday and he deep cleaned the whole room afterwards. His sleep schedule had been reset the day following the night at the club when he’d taken it _again_ just to make sure he slept through the day and avoided a hangover headache. Otherwise he would have spent the whole day sitting awake in his bedroom thinking about what had happened and it was just easier to avoid doing that entirely.

The moment the bedroom door is open, Nike slips right in and jumps straight onto the bed. She turns to him expectantly with a meow before starting to knead the bed. Apparently she is under the impression that he’s going to be going to sleep. She couldn’t be more wrong, and she expresses her displeasure as Castiel pulls the blanket back on the bed and leaves the room again.

Gabriel watches on as Castiel returns to the living room. The moment he crouches next to the couch and carefully worms his arms under Dean, Gabriel snorts loudly and slaps a hand over his mouth to cover the laugh. In hindsight, Castiel really should have insisted that Gabriel go to bed before he attempted this. Castiel sighs to himself as he stands up, lifting Dean near effortlessly and cradling him to his chest. He pauses to make sure that he didn’t wake him, but all Dean does is make a soft snuffling noise. It’s quite amazing that he hardly stirs at all. He must be _really_ tired.

When he turns around, Gabriel has his phone out and raised. Castiel knows immediately that he’s either taking pictures or a video. He narrows his eyes as he passes him to his bedroom. Nike is still waiting on the blankets for him, and she chirrups as he places Dean on the bed. He pulls the covers up and tucks him in, doing his best to make sure that he’s comfortable.

Almost immediately, Dean rolls onto his stomach and nuzzles his face into the pillow with a sleepy yawn. His eyelids flutter slightly, but he makes no other sign of actually waking up. That’s a bit surprisingly considering the near constant click of the shutter of Gabriel’s cell phone. Since he’s there documenting this whole process, Castiel doesn’t dare do anything more. His fingers are twitching to do something ridiculous like push through Dean’s hair.

When his mother used to put him to bed, even on the days when he would take _the sleep_ , she would always do that to him. She would kiss him on the forehead and tell him to sleep well. The memory sits heavy in the forefront of his mind while he looks down at Dean. Actually, he should be thankful that Gabriel is there. It’s stopping him from doing something silly like that.

Nike starts kneading a spot next to Dean’s side; preparing to lay down. Castiel scoops her up as she meows indignantly at being disturbed. Normally he would let her sleep, but Dean isn’t used to sleeping with animals. It’s possible that he might roll over on Nike or accidentally kick her off the bed, or she might do something that would wake him. It would just be in everyone’s best interest if she stayed with him in the living room. If she needs to the litter box, she’ll let him know and he can let her in to use that and only that.

For now, Castiel wants to do nothing more than let Dean sleep unbothered. He’s had a busy week serving the public and he needs it. With Nike squirming in his arms, Castiel quietly slips out of his bedroom and shuts the door behind himself. As soon as her paws are on the ground again, Nike streaks off into the living room to sulk under the desk. It leaves him free to turn on Gabriel.

“Give me the phone.”

“Oh _hell_ no.” Gabriel clutches the phone to his chest and ducks into his bedroom. He closes the door most of the way and peeks around the edge of it. “It’s my _precious_.”

Castiel grumbles under his breath and holds out his hand. “Delete those photos, Gabriel.”

“No way!”

“ _Gabriel_.”

He laughs and closes the door even further. “It’s too late! I already texted the pictures to Dean. Unless you can hack his phone and delete them before he wakes up, there’s no point in trying to demand anything from me.” A growl rumbles low in Castiel’s throat as Gabriel sticks his tongue out at him. “Good _night_ , Cassie!”

Castiel throws his hands up in the air in defeat as the door actually closes on him. He stalks down the short hallway to the living room and all but throws himself down on the couch. The credits of the movie are still paused and Castiel turns off both the DVD player and the TV. There’s a book on the end table that he left there earlier when he was reading before Dean came over. He picks that up and flips through it to the last page he was on.

A few pages later and there are claws and teeth catching on his foot. It seems Nike is no longer sulking and is instead taking her revenge on his toes. Castiel doesn’t even look away from his book as he reaches down to shoo her away. Apparently she’s given up on sleeping and has decided that it’s playtime. Luckily for her, Castiel can adapt to either one of her moods. He continues reading as he reaches under the end table to fetch one of her string-on-a-stick toys.

Nike thankfully abandons all interest in his foot as he starts bouncing the string at the end of the coffee table. She attacks it with abandon while Castiel reads. This was his plan for after Dean was supposed to have left and having him still here, sleeping in his bed, isn’t going to change that in the slightest. Well, except for in one regard. Every hour or so that ticks by finds Castiel at his bedroom door; peeking into the room just to check up on him.

Dean hardly moves at all as the hours slip by. He does seem to favour cuddling a pillow whether it’s on his stomach or his side. An odd little bubble of jealous sits hot under Castiel’s ribs because that could be _him_ instead. He could be reading in bed with Dean snuggled up against his side, snoring softly into his shirt. It’s a dangerous, tempting thought but he forces himself not to think about it every time it tries to sneak back in. There is the ever present temptation throughout the night to just throw all caution to the wind and join Dean in the bed. He just looks so _comfy_.

After the fifth time his imagination runs away with his thoughts, Castiel decides that maybe it’s not such a good thing to keep checking on Dean. He’ll just go back to the couch, curl up with Nike, and finishing reading his book. Dean will wake up when he wakes up and being checked on isn’t going to change a thing about that.

_ _

**_Sunday – March 13 th, 2016_ **

Waking up is a slow process and Dean doesn’t rush it. His head feels heavy, like his brain was made out of wet cotton balls or something. To top it all off, his mouth tastes downright disgusting. His teeth feel like they have a layer of fuzz on them when he runs his tongue over them and it’s literally one of the worst feelings in the world. He groans and smacks his lips a few times, trying to make the weird slack feeling in his mouth to go away.

It doesn’t really help with things, but it’s a start. Dean hums and rolls over to nuzzle his face into the pillow again. He doesn’t have the first clue about what time it is, but he doesn’t particularly feel like getting up just this very minute. As long as he doesn’t have to go to the bathroom, he can stay in bed for as long as possible. It’s Sunday, right? That means he doesn’t have to go to work and he can be lazy _all day_ without a care in the world. It definitely helps that he did pretty much all his weekend chores yesterday while waiting for the technician.

Dean takes a deep breath, using it to expand his chest as big as it will go before letting it out slowly. Doing that has the added bonus of arching his spine _just_ right. To make it perfect, he also stretches his legs out and curls his toes; his whole body trembling with how awesome it feels. And then everything stops. His breathing, his stretching – _everything_. Something is not right. The smell on the pillow is not the fabric softener scent like it should be. He washed his pillow cases yesterday and they should still smell fresh even after a night of sleeping on them.

The weirdest thing about it is that the pillow actually smells fucking amazing and Dean doesn’t know why. He turns his nose into it more and takes a few extra sniffs, just to try and figure out what the hell it could be. And is it just his mind playing tricks on him, or did his pillow suddenly get flatter overnight? The ones that he has are way fluffier than this.

Slowly but surely it begins to dawn on him that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t in Kansas anymore. Dean lifts his head and opens one eye at a time to squint around the room, just in case it’s bright. To his surprise, the room is nearly pitch black; reinforcing the growing suspicions that this is not his bedroom. His room has flimsy blinds that barely keep out the street lights, let alone sunlight. This is definitely not his bedroom because the only light is from the alarm clock next to the bed and a slightly lighter rectangle on the wall that might be a window with a really thick shade over it.

A quiet creak from somewhere beyond his feet catches his attention and Dean sits up to see what it is. There’s a door in the corner of the room and it’s being pushed open. He doesn’t see anyone come in, and no one is even there as far as he can tell. It’s more than a little bit creepy up until something fluffy jumps up onto the bed. Dean recognizes Nike’s purr in an instant as she picks her way across the mess of blankets to rub up against the bend of his knee.

Dean knuckles at his eyes before reaching down to pet her. He twists around again to get another look at the clock, blinking at the numbers reflected back at him in red. According to that, it’s not long after four o’clock in the morning and that’s just not making sense to him. Why is he in Cas’s bed? Weren’t they just watching _The Fifth Element_ together? He can’t remember seeing the end of the movie, and he definitely doesn’t remember when or how he got to the bed.

It’s still a few moments later before he realizes that he’s _in Cas’s bed_. Sweet Mary, Mother of God, he needs answers and he needs them now. For instance, what woke him up? Could it be because he’s been sleeping since – Oh shit, what was the last time that he can remember? Somewhere around eight o’clock, maybe. That’s a solid eight hours of sleep, more or less, and he might have woken up just because of that. Or – or maybe it’s the voices he can hear whispering rather loudly out in the hallway.

Well, he might as well get up and investigate that. Nike happily takes over the abandoned pillows as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up. Just in case she might be mad at him for not staying for some cuddles, Dean gives Nike a few pats on the head and a good scratch behind the ears. If it weren’t for his allergies, maybe he would actually consider getting a pet cat. Only as long as they’re as awesome a cat as Nike is.

With a yawn that nearly cracks his jaw, Dean stretches his arms above his head. It’s kinda amazing that even his clothes smell like Cas now. Every move he makes sends a waft of whatever fucking cologne or aftershave or whatever it is up to his nose and it’s fantastic. It’s actually pretty bad, though, because he should _not_ be smelling like Cas. It’s going to fuck him up so hard by the time he gets home and he has enough trouble not thinking stupid things.

The whispering in the hallway is, unsurprisingly, Cas and Gabriel. They’ve got their heads together at the end of the hall by the kitchen. Dean tries really hard not to laugh at Gabriel’s onesie pajamas. The only thing they’re missing is attached feet to be _really_ adorable. Either way, it’s extra hilarious because of how fucked up his hair is. His own hair probably isn’t much better, but it’s not nearly as long as Gabriel’s and that makes all the difference.

Any conversation they might have been having comes to a complete stop the moment Dean steps out of the bedroom. Two sets of surprised eyes turn on him and all he can do is manage a sheepish smile while trying to fix his sleep-rumbled clothes. “I – uh – I think I fell asleep.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, but he looks more amused than he does annoyed.

“Be nice.” Cas hisses and backhands his brother across the shoulder. An instant later and he’s turned a small, warm smile on Dean. “It’s alright. I know you had a long day yesterday.”

True as that may be, it’s still not cool for him to fall asleep when they were supposed to be hanging out together. On the bright side, at least he didn’t unintentionally kick Cas out of his bed by crashing early – if only because Cas doesn’t actually _use_ his bed at night like most other people. Speaking of –

Dean jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the living room. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or nothing, but – um – how did I get from the couch to your bed?”

A big, bright, _ridiculous_ grin spreads across Gabriel’s face and it’s just a little bit terrifying. Cas doesn’t even look at him as he reaches over to slap a hand over his mouth before he can say anything. “Ignore him. He just finds it exceedingly amusing that I carried you to bed.”

Gabriel glares hatefully at Cas as he slaps his hand away. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a goddamn spoilsport, Cassie?”

“Yes. You have.” Cas shrugs the insult off like water off a duck’s back. “On several occasions, actually. And yet you still insist on spending time with me.”

As cute as their brotherly quibbling is, there’s something that Dean’s brain is very, _very_ stuck on and there is no way he’s going to be able to move past it until some questions are addressed. “Bullshit.” The word is out of his mouth before he’s aware of it, but he doesn’t even care. “There’s no way _you_ carried me to bed.”

It might be possible, but Dean doesn’t want to believe that it’s true. If it is, he’s going to hate himself forever for sleeping through it, let alone that he was so fucking out of it that Cas saw the need to _carry_ him to bed. He couldn’t have just – oh, y’know – helped him to his feet and more or less let him sleepily stumble in the right direction? Dean might have been dead to the world, but he could have at least managed _that_ right?

Cas’s smile falls into a frown. “But it’s true.”

Nope. No way. Can’t be. Dean refuses to believe it. He even goes so far as to cross his arms and shake his head. “Cas, buddy, I hate to break it to you but I’ve probably got a good fifty pounds on you.”

Okay, that’s being way too generous with his estimations. If anything, it’s more like ten pounds. Dean knows for a fact that Cas has muscles. He’s not a stick child in any sense of the word. The difference between them is that Dean is tall, but solid from all the muscle training he does throughout the week at the station. In comparison, Cas is lithe. Muscled, but more slim than Dean. It was made _really_ obvious when Cas was practically plastered up against him at the club and his skinny jeans only accentuated his toned thighs. Those are all images and feelings basically burned into Dean’s brain and he’s never going to forget him. He’ll be remembering them on his deathbed.

All in all, Dean knows that he is _not_ a light guy. Even at the station it takes a Creature or one of the bigger guys to be able to lift and move him from one place to another. Of course it doesn’t occur to him until it’s too late; Cas _is_ a Creature and he’s probably ten times stronger than Dean is. By the time that helpful reminder pops back into his head, Cas is standing next to him and his frown has dipped right down into the annoyed spectrum.

“I may wear big sweaters sometimes, but you know for a fact that I am _not_ a frail little wisp.” He huffs and, to prove his point, proceeds to sweep Dean off his feet like he’s a fucking princess. Cas does it without batting an eyelash and he stands there with Dean in his arms as if he were a groom about to carry his bride across the threshold of their new home.

Having Cas show off his strength like it’s no big deal is doing all sorts of crazy things to Dean’s insides. His heart has suddenly decided to give its best impression of a hummingbird, and it’s doing it right in the center of his throat. He can feel himself going cherry red in the cheeks and the back of his neck is absolutely _burning_. It gets about a million times worse as Cas actually has the _audacity_ to bounce him in his arms a few times, proving that he could probably carry two Dean-sized people if he wanted to.

“Despite having said that I don’t flaunt that I am a Creature, please don’t forget that I’m not Human.” Cas shrugs and it just bounces Dean again. “I suppose this would likely be the equivalent of picking up a child for you.”

Jesus Christ on a cracker in a top hot. Dean can’t _breathe_. Blood is rushing to his head _and_ it’s going South at an alarming rate. Both are places that he would really rather it not go en masse at this particular point in time. It’s only a matter of moments before Cas or _Gabriel_ – God forbid – notices that something unacceptable is happening to Dean right now. It’s something that even _he_ hasn’t quite figured out and it’s making him dizzy.

Somehow he manages to get out a request for Cas to put him down, but it’s done in one quick breath and comes out more like one word than several. Apparently it’s a cause for concern because Cas just blinks at him a few times before his frown slides from annoyed to confused. He puts Dean down slowly and then takes a step back, glancing at Gabriel at the same time. Despite his best efforts to act suave and cover what has to be a ridiculous blush, Dean feels like he fails completely. As long as no one notices that he might be a little bit aroused, they’ll be good.

The weirdest part is that this isn’t the first time that someone has picked him up. Hell, even Charlie has done it to him on occasion, and especially during training exercises. But never, not once, has he _ever_ been picked up by someone that he’s totally head over heels for. Hell, he’s pretty sure he’s never been _attracted_ to someone who has picked him up before either. Was it just simply the act of being picked up, being picked up my _Cas_ , the whole _bouncing_ thing, or a combination of all of the above that made his thoughts tank right into the gutter?

Whatever it might be, one glance at Gabriel tells Dean that he knows _exactly_ what’s going through his head right now. That shit eating grin ain’t for nothing. Dean hates it the moment he looks up and sees it. Cas, luckily, hasn’t seemed to realize. He just keeps looking back and forth between the two of them, quite obviously confused. Whatever God is pissing down on him this morning apparently stops just long enough for Cas to not care to push for details.

“Now that we’re done with this, are you hungry?” He crosses the kitchen to the fridge to sort through it. “Gabriel and I were just discussion what to have for breakfast.”

Food would be an _excellent_ distraction, but only after Dean locks himself in the bathroom and splashes some cold water on his face. He’ll just think of something gross like his dad and Bobby going skinny dipping together or something. Oh, ugh. Yup. That’s already starting to work.

“If you pull out some eggs and veggies, I’ll whip you up some of my awesome omelettes after I hit the head.” Dean’s voice sounds strained even to his own ears, but his excuse will have to do.

While Cas roots through the fridge, Dean ducks past Gabriel with a muttered command to _shut the hell up_. Of course that doesn’t work. If anything, it has the exact opposite effect. Gabriel starts laughing the moment the words are out of his mouth. The only thing Dean can to do counteract it is to shut the bathroom door behind him and hope to god that Gabriel does say anything stupid. Knowing him, Dean just might be shit out of luck in that regard – but at least he can hope to get out of this with _some_ of his dignity still intact. At least he’s not sporting an actual hard on, right?

Fuck. He should _not_ think about himself getting hard. That does not help things. Skinny dipping. _Skinny dipping_. For the love of God – _skinny dipping_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out! The holidays were not a good time to attempt to write two fics at the same time. As an apology, chapter 28 will be in a few days (rather than in 2 weeks). As well, please forgive any glaringly obvious spelling errors. I've had little sleep over the past few days and finished this chapter after the bossman sent me home sick today. I'll give it a re-read for errors in the morning.
> 
> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Friday – March 25 th, 2016_ **

Maybe Dean should invest in one of those cool full-ceiling vinyl stickers that make it look like there’s a hole in his ceiling leading to outer space, or the ocean. It would give him something to stare at when he wakes up before his alarm clock. It might even have the added bonus of distracting him when his stupid dreams wake him up before he wanted to be woken up. Like today, for example. In fact, his alarm clock should probably be going off – Yup, there it is.

The screeching Defcon-1 alarm goes off and Dean actually flinches from it. He flails out a hand to grab the phone out of its dock and fumbles to turn the alarm off one handed. It’s officially twelve o’clock in the afternoon, and Dean is not a happy bunny. If anything, he’s a very hate-filled bunny. Not just because he woke up before his alarm, which in and of itself is probably the most annoying thing having to do with waking up ever, but because his _dream_ woke him up.

If it was a nightmare or something along those lines, he would happily have just rolled over and gone back to sleep. This – this is much more difficult. He’s been awake for probably ten minutes now and his dream left him with an aching hard on that _refuses to go down_. Ten minutes of staring at the ceiling trying to think of anything that might help it go away and nada. Nothing. Nope. Zero luck in that department. His little soldier is standing at attention and he’s not leaving his post until Dean waves the white flag of surrender.

Normally he’d be perfectly okay with a wet dream. He’d just wake up, kick off the blankets, and finish what the dream started. But the _content_ of this dream has been haunting him for a week and a half. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had it, or something like it, and woken up hard or had it linger in the back of his mind throughout the day. And the worst part is he can’t just outright blame certain people for it either. It’s his fault. Just him and his libido.

With a groan, Dean pushes the palms of his hands into his eyes and tries, yet again, to will away his boner. Of course it’s not going to work. It’s just going to tent the blankets and _mock_ him with that throbbing need burning hot in his gut. Does his body really need to do this to him? It’s not like he doesn’t hate himself enough for not being able to shake the feelings and the want and the basically _everything_ that he’s got going on for Cas. Does it need to throw in dreams where he has no control over what goes on between them into the mix too? That’s just _not_ fair.

Part of this is kind of a little bit Cas’s fault too. If he hadn’t picked him up and done that stupid _bouncing_ thing, then Dean wouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts. Well, maybe. When he discovered the photos on his phone courtesy of Gabriel, he had all sorts of thoughts again too. It’s entirely possible that this would’ve happened regardless of Cas having lifted him after he woke up. In either way, his dreams won’t leave that goddamn idea alone.

Almost every dream he’s had between now and that night have revolved around Cas lifting him up, pinning him against the nearest wall, and having his wicked _wicked_ way with him. Thus far Dean has been pretty good at _not_ jerking off to these dreams, but he’s kinda getting tired of the cold showers. Ignoring the problem is not making it go away and – and now he’s starting to think that maybe if he gave in that might help? Maybe? It’s pretty much the only option left to him at this point.

It’s not like he _needs_ an excuse to jerk off. God knows that he’s spanked the monkey more times in his life than he can count, and for all sorts of reasons too. This, though, this is different. This is about _Cas_ and Dean has been doing his damnedest not to masturbate to anything having to do with him. It’s all part of his initiative to get over Cas. That’s just not going to happen if he keeps letting his lust get in the way. This whole lusting thing is just making it really fucking hard.

The worst part about the dreams is that sometimes they happen on days where he’s going to see Cas while he’s on shift, or when they’re going to hang out. It would be really, _really_ nice if they stopped doing that. Of course it had to happen _today_ , the morning before he takes Cas to the grand re-opening of _The Roadhouse_ tonight. There’s going to be drinking and dancing and God knows what else and that’s just a terrible mix when he’s got sex with Cas riding the forefront of his mind.

Is – is jerking off _once_ going to really hurt anything, though? Dean’s patience is pushing its limits right now. What’s the downside? The only one he can think of is that maybe he feels really guilty about it for a little bit. It’s not like Cas will ever know it happened. They can just get on with their lives as good friends and whatever the hell else they might become – if ever. Either way, he’s tired of dodging the dreams. He’s frustrated with the hot and cold. He’s just – he just _really_ wants to jerk off.

Honestly, Dean knows that what he and Cas are doing isn’t exactly the healthiest of relationships. If he didn’t absolutely adore spending time with him, maybe it wouldn’t be such a problem. But even when they’re being awkward with each other they still have a great time together. The conversations are excellent, their arguments over certain topics are fun, and just everything in general about being with Cas is awesome. It makes Dean feel good, even when all they do is sit together and watch a movie.

Unhealthy pining and hope and lust aside, Dean has spent seven months building a great friendship and he’s not giving it up for anything. Even if it would be really nice if something happened one day while they’re watching a movie. Something like Cas sliding close enough to sling an arm over his shoulders. Maybe, after a few minutes, he would lean in and kiss the side of Dean’s throat. That would be nice. Just little nibble kisses spread across his skin until Cas works his way to his mouth. By then Dean wouldn’t be paying any attention to the movie and it would devolve into some really heavy making out.

Okay, this is happening. Dean’s giving in and he’s going to jerk off. Thank God that Charlie and Jo are already gone. Jo stayed over with her mom last night to help with last minute things for _The Roadhouse_ and Charlie is at work. That means Dean can kick off his blankets and do whatever the hell he wants without someone pulling a knock-knock-enter on his bedroom door. Usually it’s just parents who do that, but Dean has found that his roommates sometimes do it too.

Now that he’s free of the blanket, Dean reaches down to palm his crotch. He’ll wait a bit before pushing his pajama pants down. It’s always better to work himself up first. If he’s not aching for it, then what’s the point? Thankfully, it shouldn’t take him too long to get to that point since his dreams gave him a pretty decent head start. His current fantasy is pretty tame by any regard, but thinking about Cas pushing him down on the couch and smooching the ever loving shit out of his is _definitely_ getting things going. Especially if he exacts a little bit of that Creature strength to pin him down.

Dean will admit that he is, perhaps, a bit of a xenophile when it comes to Creatures. He loves learning about them and he finds their powers and strength utterly fascinating. In some cases, they’re a real turn on. Nick’s split tongue? Kinda hot. His personality? Not so much. Charlie’s fire spots? Adorable as fuck. Fae and their wings? Just – _guh_. Seriously, if Cas had wings, Dean probably would have already gone down on a knee and asked for his hand in marriage.

For his sake, he forces himself not to imagine Cas with wings and instead focuses on what it would be like for Cas to drag him to his feet and towards the bedroom. In his mind, Gabriel is out of town and that means they can lose their clothing along the way. It would be fucking great to have Cas manhandle him out of his clothes; tearing his shirt off and skating his lips along his collarbone. His hands – he’s got such _great_ hands – grabbing his hips as he shoves Dean up against the wall.

The skin on his throat tingles slightly as he drags the fingers of his free hand over it. He wishes they were Cas’s mouth instead as he presses harsh, sucking kisses to it; his stubble scraping Dean’s skin; his teeth catching. Oh _fuck_. A spike of pleasure buries itself deep in his gut and he groans at it. He pushes his shirt up enough that he can get at his nipples. They’ve never been a major source of pleasure for him, but he gives them the same attention that they get in any of the yaoi manga that he sometimes reads online. He only ever reads those when he’s looking for some anime to get off to and he’s in the mood for something gay. There’s just not enough hardcore yaoi anime online for his liking.

Pinching and rubbing at his nipples doesn’t do a whole lot for him, but Dean remembers liking it when Cassie used to lick them. At least once she gently bit one and _that_ was a big fucking surprise. Lisa never really paid them any kind of attention, and that was okay with him because she was _very_ good at taking care of other parts of his anatomy. But this isn’t about them. This is about _Cas_ , and in Dean’s fantasy he is _very_ focuses on them.

In his head, Cas has dropped to his knees and he’s licking, sucking, and biting all over Dean’s chest and stomach. He’s making Dean whine his name and bury his fingers in his hair. He’s making him _beg_ and oh if that doesn’t get a shiver out of him! It’s a shiver that goes right to his cock and it’s about time he gets his goddamn pants and boxers out of the way. Two layers is two too many to have between skin on skin.

He licks the palm of his hand to help out before he starts stroking himself. There’s a little bit of pre-come, but that’s not enough to reduce the kind of friction that he’s about to make. First, though, he’s going to start nice and slow. Cas seems like he’s the nice and slow kind of guy. Even if he’s on his knees in front of Dean, he would still take his time. Cas would probably suck him down slowly, watching with his too-blue eyes from under his lashes to see what kind of effect his having on him. Dean would _kill_ to have those chapped lips around sliding around him.

 _Shit_. He was already halfway gone when he woke up and this is _definitely_ helping things along. If he doesn’t speed up his fantasy, he’s going to be done before he gets to the good stuff. Well, arguably this is _all_ good stuff, but he’d at least like to get to the part where Cas puts one of his legs over his shoulder to spread him. Then he’d take those fingers – the ones Dean can’t stop staring at when he’s typing in an order on the register or when he’s folding origami – would slick up and push in.

Truthfully, that’s something Dean has never done before. He’s never tried using a toy or even his own fingers. Penetration is still one hurdle in the whole _liking guys_ thing that he hasn’t taken yet and he’s maybe a little scared of it. Turned on like no tomorrow, but scared. He has, however, totally teased his ass a few times. It gives him a hell of a thrill to run his fingers over his hole – maybe press at it with a fingertip but never actually push inside. Half the fun for him is the teasing – the _buildup_ – but he does look forward to the day he lets someone do more.

One day, eventually, Dean wants to try sex with a guy. He’s definitely, on multiple occasions even, thought about fucking a guy or being fucked by one. Both roles sound fucking awesome and he looks forward to the day he gets to try them. He’s done it with girls before, but topping a guy isn’t quite the same. At least, it isn’t to him. Neither Lisa nor Cassie let him try the backdoor route. It would be _really_ awesome if Cas were the guy he got to try both those things with, but Dean isn’t going to hold out hope for that. And he shouldn’t wait around for it either.

Dean brings his fingers to his lips and sucks on them for a little while. He pushes his tongue between them and twists it around. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that they’re Cas’s. And when he spreads his legs and rubs between them with those spit-slick fingers, he can pretend that Cas is the one doing it. He can pretend that Cas hooks his arms under both his legs as he’s standing up, lifting him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Cas is a virgin in real life, but the one in Dean’s fantasy knows _exactly_ what he’s doing and he’s carrying it out _amazingly_. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes of thinking about Cas pinning him against the wall and fucking him stupid before Dean is coming across his stomach, his hips even coming off the bed as he does it. The orgasm makes him tremble, but it doesn’t stave off the guilt for very long. He’s hardly come down from it before that sets in.

Really, this was probably the worst day for him to have done this. In hindsight, he probably should have done this yesterday or at least tried to wait until the next time he had a sexy dream. Dean is going to have to pick Cas up later this evening and somehow he’s going to have to act like he didn’t start the day by jerking off to his best friend. He can be a good actor when he needs to be, but this is still going to suck the big one.

With a groan, Dean kicks off his pants complete and rolls out of bed. He sheds his shirt before it can touch the mess on his belly. It’s time to take a shower and scrub away his shame. He really should have thought of someone else fucking him against a wall, but the dreams have all been about Cas and it’s just such good fapping material. Except that Cas is his friend who shot him down and Dean just feels bad for jerking off while thinking about him, regardless of his own physical and emotional feelings. He should respect Cas’s rejection and not be the creepy jerk masturbating to his friends.

Dear God, but he needs to get _laid_. Maybe Dean should go to the club with Charlie again, but this time not bring Cas. He could find someone to hook up with and let them take him back to their car, or vice versa. Maybe find a motel and not come back to Montpelier until the morning. That would be nice and it would scratch this _itch_ he’s been having for a while now. Except – and this is the part that has him bang his head against the tiled wall of the shower – he doesn’t like the idea of dancing up on another guy. Doing anything with someone who _isn’t_ Cas is making his stomach turn.

Holy shit, he’s fallen _hard_.

*

Rather than get dressed after his shower, Dean simply put on boxers and a housecoat. He’s been sitting in front of the TV playing video games and slowly chewing on bacon he cooked yesterday ever since. And that’s what he does right up until he has to actually get dressed and leave the house. It takes him all of twenty minutes to change clothes and style his hair before he’s out the door. Sam, on the other hand, looks like he’s spent _all day_ primping in front of the mirror.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean can’t help grinning as he gets into the car. “Got yourself a date lined up, did you?”

“Sure did!” He practically fucking _beams_ at Dean. “She’s waiting with Cas.”

Dean slaps Sam on the shoulder and resists ruffling his hair. If he did that, there might actually be blood spilled tonight and he would never let that happen inside his Baby. “You _dog_. You managed to convince Jess to go, did you?”

The blush says it all and Sam ducks his head with a nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good luck, kid.” He gives him one last slap on the shoulder for good measure before reversing out of their parent’s driveway.

“Thanks.” Sam doesn’t sound half as sure as he did before. He starts fidgeting with the hem of his coat. “She said I’m cute, so – so that’s a _good_ thing, right?”

Well, hm. That’s a bit of a conundrum. At Dean’s age, and he’s only four years older than Sam, he would prefer to be called _hot_ over cute. For Sam, though, that’s a different matter. He’s still under the crucial dividing line that is _twenty_. It’s possible that he still falls within the _cute_ category. Besides, when he gets the right expression going, he looks exactly like a puppy.

Dean shrugs and hums. “Hm, maybe? Unless she thinks you’re _cute_ like a _little brother_.”

It’s just teasing, but Sam must take it to heart. He actually loses a little colour in his cheeks as he turns to give Dean what has to be the most horrified look _ever_. Poor kid must be terrified of the friend zone. If he really thinks that exists, Dean is going to have to sit him down and give him a long talk. The exact same talk that Charlie beat into his head in high school the first time he complained about that.

He’s so wrapped up in trying to remember how she put some of the things that Dean doesn’t even notice when Sam starts frowning. “And what does that say about _you_ , Mr. _Best Friend_.”

Ouch. Dean takes his eyes off the road just long enough to stick his tongue out at Sam. “The difference there is that I confessed and Cas shot me down. Now we’re just friends and I’m not _expecting_ more out of the relationship.” Hoping is different. And it’s not like he’s going to go on social media or blast Cas to all of his friends for being a teasing bitch. Dean went into this _looking_ to be friends first and hoping for more afterwards.

Even with his eyes on the road again, he can see the _look_ Sam is shooting his way. It’s all flat and raised eyebrows and just downright annoying. He throws him a squint, just to confirm that it’s not a trick of his peripherals. “What?”

“Do _just friends_ dance like –”

Dean hits the brakes hard enough that Sam’s seatbelt cuts him off. They’re damn lucky that there’s no traffic immediately behind them at the moment, but there are lights down the road in the rearview and he pulls the car onto the shoulder of the road just in case. Once they’re properly parked, Dean turns on Sam with a tone boarding on the deadly. “ _Who told you that_?”

Here’s the thing. Dean has very purposefully _not_ told _anyone_ about how he and Cas danced together. The only person who knows about it is Charlie, and that’s only because she was at the club too. He knew that Cas wouldn’t like him gossiping around about it, especially after that early morning phone call they had the day after. Both Dean and Charlie have kept their beaks shut, and he knows damn well that _Cas_ wouldn’t have told anyone about it either.

Sam seems entirely unruffled by Dean’s tone. He sits back in his seat, smiling like he’s at peace with the world. “Everyone at the café knows about you two dancing together like a pair of teenagers.”

“Who blabbed?” Dean tighten his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. “No fucking way was Cas the one who talked about it.”

“Cas wasn’t the only one there.” Sam shrugs, his smile looking _just_ like a cat who got the canary. “Someone else was there and he has loose lips.”

Oh sweet mother of – Dean groans and legitimately facepalms when he remembers that Balthazar was there too. Knowing him, he probably told literally anyone who would listen. Honestly, Dean wouldn’t put it past Gabriel to have told people about it too. Cas probably told him and, unless he stressed that he didn’t want others to know, then that blabbermouth would’ve told _everyone_. He keeps secrets just about as well as Dean remembers to eat his daily servings of fruits and vegetables.

With a loud sigh, he puts the car into drive again and pulls out onto the road. “Just – don’t talk about it tonight, okay? Don’t talk about me and Cas being _anything_ more than friends. Mom and Dad are going to be there and they don’t know I like guys yet.” Honestly, it’s a fucking miracle that Nick, Meg, or even Ruby haven’t opened their traps about it. “Just – just let them continue to believe I’m totally straight for as long as I can manage it. Please?”

Sam stares at him for longer than necessary before he rolls his eyes. “Mom and Dad won’t care.”

“We don’t know that.” Knowing how much their Dad freaks out about _Creatures_ , Dean wouldn’t put it past him to be a bigot about anyone on the queer spectrum either.

“Yeah, fine.” Sam sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever.”

Dean shoots him one last glare before the rest of their drive falls into silence. It’s not so much an awkward silence as it is tense. He can’t tell if it’s because of the conversation or because Sam can’t stop fidgeting. The closer they get to the café, the more he rubs his hands on his jeans or smooths out his jacket, or even checking his hair in the visor mirror.

Speaking of hair, Dean makes a mental note that it’s about time for Sam to get a haircut. It’s bypassed the cute fluff around his ears and is starting to get stupid long. Anything that floppy needs to be deal with ASAP. Otherwise Sam might be able to put it up in one of those stupid man-buns and Dean would sooner attack his brother with a pair of scissors while he’s sleeping then _ever_ let someone in his family wear _that_ monstrosity. Even a ponytail would be pushing it.

He’s considering actually saying something while they’re pulling a U-turn in the station parking lot so they can actually pull up right in front of the café, but then pretty much every thought leaves his head the moment he spots Cas and Jess waiting on the sidewalk for them. To start with, Jess looks amazing in tall boots with a dress peeking out from under her coat. Her hair is braided back from her face but it still flows down her back in a very Khaleesi style. If Dean wasn’t completely distracted by Cas right now, he would be totally jealous that Sam gets to go on a date with _her_ tonight.

While Jess is gorgeous and all, Dean really only has eyes for Cas right now. As far as he’s concerned, everything and anything pales in comparison to him. Yeah, sure, Cas might not be dressed in anything special, but it’s still taken Dean’s breath away. He’s wearing his big beige overcoat again, but it’s open and flapping in the breeze as he walks Jess to the car. Dean is openly staring because Cas just – he just looks so _good_ right now.

Gabriel must have gotten at his hair again. It’s styled just right, and he has the perfect amount of five o’clock shadow that makes Dean’s fingers twitch to touch that scruff. Cas is wearing some _very_ nice fitting slacks underneath his coat. They match his vest. Today he’s forgone the tie and it looks like he’s left the collar of his shirt open. The streetlights don’t do it justice, but Dean is _positive_ that Cas’s shirt would probably match his eyes.

It’s a simple outfit, but it’s making Dean _drool_. Cas could have walked out wearing a potato sack and he’d probably still think that he’d top the charts of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive for basically the rest of time. God, even Dean’s stupid heart is fluttering in his chest. Suddenly it’s just a little too hard to breathe and he has to clench the steering wheel again to steady himself.

There’s an itch under his skin and it’s the most ridiculous itch _ever_. Given how his day started, Dean expected to have some kind of sexual urge once he saw Cas tonight. The weirdest thing, though, is that sex is the farthest thing from his mind right now. No. That’s not what he wants to do. What he wants to do is something so fucking simple it hurts. He wants to _hold Cas’s hand_. Right here in the car. Just hold his hand and squeeze it and feel that connection.

If there weren’t other people around, Dean would be banging his head against the steering wheel right now. That’s just so gross and sappy, but dear God it’s all that he wants to do right now. He wants to hold his hand and maybe kiss him. He wants to whisper sweet words into Cas’s ear because he’s amazing and that’s just exactly what he deserves. Cas deserves to have someone treat him right and holy _shit_ what Dean wouldn’t give to be that person. While he might have his flays, he still considers himself to be a pretty awesome guy most of the time. Even if he does sometimes doubt that he would be worthy of the picture of perfection approaching his car.

Sam throws a glance over his shoulder with a nervous smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Dean blinks away from staring at Cas through the window. It takes a minute to figure out how to work his jaw again. “You too, Sammy.”

They give each other subtle thumbs up before Sam gets out of the car. He holds the door to the front seat open and makes a gesture at it. He doesn’t actually use real words and Dean leans over to speak for him. “Hey Jess, lovely ladies like yourself _always_ get to ride shotgun.”

As expected, she laughs, but the rolling of her eyes is a bit of a curve ball. Instead of taking the seat like pretty much everyone thought she would, Jess side steps and opens the door to the backseat. “I think I’d prefer sitting back here with Sam. If you want someone to ride shotgun, it should be _Castiel_.”

She gives him a very pointed look as she’s getting into the car and Dean is pretty sure he’s the only one who sees it. Okay, so, that makes it official. If Sam doesn’t marry this girl, Dean might have to. Jess is just too awesome and she’s quickly winning him over.

Without argument, Cas slips into the front seat. Sam stays outside to shut both doors for their guests before he ducks around to the other side of the car to get in. Dean has to put on his brave face as he and Cas exchange quiet greetings. It is _way_ too hard to pretend that he didn’t spend part of his morning thinking extremely dirty thoughts about the good friend sitting right next to him.

Jess and Sam get comfortable in the backseat, already talking quietly to each other. He waits until they’re all buckled in before checking his mirrors and pulling out into traffic. One glance in the rear view tells him that Sam is already starting to enjoy himself. He seems to be a little bit nervous, but his smile is _ridiculously_ happy. If just talking to Jess makes him look like a dorky puppy, then she’s definitely a keeper. Sam being happy makes Dean happy; enough that he can sorta forget the shitty awkwardness he feels every time he catches Cas’s eye.

This is killing him. Cas is too stupidly hot for his own good. And he’s probably doing it all without trying. God, Dean hopes this is just rose coloured glasses syndrome or something. Otherwise he’s fucking doomed. Just straight up _doomed_.

Cas is the first to clear his throat and say something between the two of them. “I’ve refrained from asking, but I’ve never been to a grand re-opening before. What can we expect?”

It’s such an unexpected question that Dean actually snorts a laugh first. Sam immediately jabs him in the back of the shoulder. Dean shoots him a glare through the mirror before he shrugs. “It’s no different from a regular opening, as far as I know.”

“Yeah, that means he’s never been to one either.”

“Shut _up_ , Sammy.”

Jess giggles and she leans forward to talk over the back of the bench. “Actually, Jo came in with her mother about a week ago to pick up a pastry order for the construction guys who redid the whole place for them. I asked her about it.”

“What did they say?” Cas twists in his seat to look back at her, and Dean immediately gets this _waft_ of his aftershave – or whatever that smell is.

As if he were having a flashback to the Vietnam War or something, he gets _vividly_ reminded of waking up just covered in that scent. It makes him briefly dizzy, which is just about the worst thing to happen while he’s driving. The car swerves a bit and the road and Dean is immediately aware of three sets of eyes watching him.

“Sorry.” He ducks his head and mutters around a cough, like that’s going to cover his embarrassment or anything. “Dodged a chunk of dirt.”

The lie is bullshit and everyone can probably see through it. Thankfully, Jess just shrugs and continues on like nothing happened. “Well, let’s see.” She sits back and starts counting off her fingers. “They said there would be a live band, discounted drinks, and extra contests. I think they said they were toying with the idea of making the contests a weekly thing? The live band for sure will be a once a week event.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean waves a hand over his shoulder to get her attention. “What’s this about _contests_? You can’t mention that and not go into more detail.”

“Maybe she doesn’t _have_ more details, Dean.”

“Actually, I do and they sound pretty fun.” She laughs and shoves Sam’s shoulder lightly. It’s a little thing, but it has Sam grinning like a fool. “They said it would be contests like best dancer, or who can chug the most pints of beer in a certain time frame. Stuff like that. But they _did_ say that there would be monetary _and_ physical prizes.”

After a brief pause, she gasps and claps her hands excitedly. “Oh, that’s right! They even said they were renting a mechanical bull for the night!”

Now _that_ catches Dean’s attention. “There’s a _mechanical bull_?” In hindsight, as the driver he probably shouldn’t look back at her. He gets thoroughly scolded by all three of them until he’s looking forward again – as if he had looked away from the road for _that_ long.

Cas laughs, low and amused. “Are you looking forward to that, Dean?”

“Abso-fucking- _lutely_.” He bounces a little bit in his chair; flashing him a grin. “I’ve ridden them a few times at local fairs and I am _awesome_ at it.”

Sam sighs and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, I gotta admit that he is pretty good.”

“Then I look forward to seeing your skills.”

Dean can see Cas’s smile out of the corner of his eye sand it’s like a goddamn ray of sunshine. He melts under it like a snowman now a Mexican beach. All he can manage is to swallow thickly and nod. “I – uh – I’ll do my best.”

With a laugh that sounds like wind chimes, Jess leans forward to tap Dean on the shoulder. “Well, aren’t you lucky? I’m pretty sure I heard them mention that they were going to make the bull a weekly thing. They were throwing around the idea of having theme nights throughout the month.”

Oh man. Oh _geeze_. That’s amazing. It’s almost embarrassing how exciting Dean is starting to get. “Did – Did they mention anything about a _cowboy_ night?”

The rear-view mirror reflects her secretive little smile back at him. “Perhaps.”

Well, shit. Apparently Dean is going to have a new favourite bar after tonight. He can’t help grinning as he revs the engine a little, speeding up as they turn onto the highway. Now he really can’t wait to get there. It sounds like there’s going to be quite the party tonight, and that’s just great. An awesome party is exactly what he’s going to need to distract himself from the guilty little voice in the back of his head that quietly hopes Cas will give riding that bull a go.

Of course that just about breaks Dean’s brain. He has to focus _really_ hard on the fact that both his mom and his dad are going to be there tonight. Both his parents _and_ half of his coworkers. If he doesn’t remind himself of that, he’s going to go into full on pervert mode at trying to picture what it would be like. Nope. No. He is _not_ going to picture that. If it absolutely must happen, then it better wait until he’s completely alone and Cas _isn’t_ sitting right the fuck next to him. Nope. Dean is going to be on his _best_ goddamn behaviour tonight.

He’s saved from having to think much more on it because they’ve arrived. It really was just a super quick drive once they reached the highway. They pull into what is already a pretty packed parking lot, which has got to be good news for _The Roadhouse_. It’s a good thing that he booked the booth ahead of time, or it might be too jam packed to get it.

Once they’re parked, they make their way inside. Back before they started the renovations, the place was divided into a dining room and a lounge area. There were walls everywhere and it felt a lot smaller than the outside building made it look. Dean is actually taken by surprise when they walk through the doors into a large-ish waiting area. It’s really just two walls on either side of the door, both lined with benches, and a podium at the end. The sign on the podium reads; _Please Wait To Be Seated._

Surprisingly, there aren’t that many people waiting in the lobby area. It’s just a few couples sitting on the benches and talking amongst themselves. Dean leads his little group up to the podium and has to stifle a gasp. The whole place looks _entirely_ different. What was a bunch of sections is now just one giant room. It’s open and about ten times more inviting than what he remembers it being like. He particularly likes how all the beams and ductwork in the ceiling is exposed.

To one side of the room is an inset stage where a band is already in the midst of playing some sweet country-rock. Dean starts bobbing his head to the beat while they wait for someone to come seat them. Directly in front of the stage is a small dance area ringed with tables. The wall opposite the stage has a U shaped bar that sticks out into the room. The long sides of it have stools, but the looped edge is free for the servers and patrons to approach.

The rest of the walls are lined with booths and the center of the room is filled with tables. Dean really likes the changes that were made. _The Roadhouse_ now has _style_ and he could definitely see himself coming here more often. From what Jo explained, it’s going to be more of a restaurant setting early in the evening for the dinner rush, but after that it because more _bar_ than anything else. Despite how they should technically be in the _restaurant_ phase of the night, there are still people milling about. Some are dancing, but the vast majority of people are sitting at their tables chatting and eating.

Someone jostles his arm a little and Dean glances over out of habit. Cas presses a little closer as someone brushes past him. Dean is reminded, quite suddenly, that Cas doesn’t like crowds. They’ve only been here a few minute and already he’s starting to look a little squirrely. His eyes are wider than they should be and he keeps looking around; his Adam’s apple bobbing whenever he swallows nervously. He’s doing a lot better than he used to, though.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and gives it a light squeeze, just as a form of comfort. It earns him a quick, thankful smile as Cas leans into the touch. Or maybe he’s just leaning out of the way as some more people shuffle past, waving at friends already inside. Just in case, it might be a good thing to remind him that he’s a total champ for always stepping outside his comfort zone like this. It’s cool that he wants to make the effort to be more social, but Dean does sometimes feel bad for always being the reason for it.

“Hey, you’re doing great.” He gives Cas’s shoulder a shake and flashes him another warm smile.

Cas’s smile grows; taking on an edge of pride. “I have improved, haven’t I?”

“Absolutely.”

Sam and Jess share a curious look between each other. Dean catches it from the corner of his eye, and so must Cas. He ducks his head as if he were embarrassed and it’s too fucking cute for words. “I don’t do well with crowds.”

“Oh!” Jess breaks out into a wide, understanding smile. “I get it. You have social anxiety, huh?”

“Only in unfamiliar spaces.” Cas shrugs, using the motion to actually take off his coat. He folds it over one arm and fidgets by smoothing out any wrinkles in it. “I’m fine at the café and when I go for a walk, but I rarely eat out at restaurants unless I’m taking it to go.”

After a brief pause, Cas glances at Dean and everything about him seems to soften; making his heart climb right up into his throat because what the hell kind of look is _that_? “But Dean has been helping me bush my boundaries. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. I can’t thank him enough for it.”

“Cut it out.” Dean gives Cas a slight shove as he looks away. “You’re making me blush.”

Thankfully, Jo shows up just then and it saves them all from hearing what witty commentary Sam had to offer. All he managed was a snort of laughter before she practically pops up at the host’s stand. Jo is all excited smiles and rosy cheeks as she grabs a handful of menus. “You came!”

“You knew we would.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, but still gestures for them to follow her. Dean can’t resist reaching out to flick her ponytail as she leads them to their booth. Cas slaps him on the arm for it, but Jo pivots without a word and socks him hard enough in the shoulder that it actually sends him back a step. Everyone is against him, because Sam puts both hands against his back and shoves him forward again. Wow, just wow. A little bit of teasing and everyone just turns against him. How mean!

“What’er you idjits doing in public?” Bobby calls out to them as Dean basically stumbles right past his booth. “Act your age, not your IQ.”

“Rude, Bobby. _Rude_.” Dean shoots him a pathetic glare that dissolves under his own laughter. It’s hard to be mad when Bobby’s grinning at him like that.

In what was clearly a planned move, Jo seats them at the booth right next to Bobby’s. She promises to be back for their drinks and takes off to seat other people. That’s fine by them because Dean wants to re-introduce Cas to Bobby. It’s been a while, and it’s not like Bobby is ever the one who goes to get the coffee at night.

They drop off their coats in their booth before backing up for some proper greetings. “Jess, Cas, this is my boss and honorary uncle, Bobby. Bobby, this is Jess and Cas. They’re responsible for the delicious pastries and coffee you get every day.”

Gruff though he may be, Bobby knows his manners and he gets up to shake both their hands. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for adding a couple inches to my waistline.”

“Oh, please.” Sam snorts and rolls his eyes. “You haven’t changed since the day I was born.”

“Watch your mouth, boy.” Bobby gives Sam a warning look from under the rim of his ever present ball cap, but it’s weakened by the grin he’s trying to hide with his beard. “You might’ve grown taller than me but I can still put you in a headlock.”

With a laugh, Sam pretends to roll up his sleeves and puff up. “I’d like to see you _try_.”

Jess covers her mouth with one hand, hiding a laugh and smile. She puts a hand on Sam’s arm. “Maybe we shouldn’t rough house in a brand new restaurant. Save that for the station or your backyard, hm?”

“Y’heard the lady.” Bobby slaps Sam on the shoulder before dropping into his seat again. “We’ll take a rain check on your asswhoopin’ for now.”

Dean is trying _so_ hard not to laugh, and he’s kinda failing at it a lot. He loves it when Bobby isn’t it boss mode. They really don’t get to hang out that often outside the station. It’s more to do with their crazy schedules and less to do with the fact that Bobby lives a good half hour of town on a plot of land that’s more scrap heap than it is a farm. In fact, he has _never_ known there to be any form of _farming_ happening out there.

“In the name of peace, I have a question.” Dean raises his hand like a good little student before he points at Bobby. “What happened to _your_ date tonight?”

To everyone’s surprise, an honest to goodness _blush_ flares up underneath Bobby’s whiskers. He sighs and tilts his head so his hat hides most of his face. “She couldn’t make it.” After a beat he looks up again and rolls his eyes. “I swear if it’s coz’ I accidentally dropped the dish full of peach cobbler she gave me – It’s not like I’m not gonna replace it!”

Ah, that would explain it. However Sam, Jess, and Cas all have pinched confused looks on their faces and it seems an actual explanation is in order. Understandable, really. Dean _is_ the only one who works with Bobby on a near daily basis, after all.

He leans in to whisper so just the three of them can hear. “Lady neighbour problems.”

“I heard that, boy.” Bobby huffs before slumping in his seat. He draws his beer closer and gives all of them a very pointed look. “Don’t you have menus you should be lookin’ at or something?”

“I think that’s our cue.” Dean hooks his arm around one of Cas’s and gives Sam a shove. “Let’s see what awesome food Ellen’s gonna stuff our stomachs with.”

When they sit down at their booth, Jess and Cas end up taking the inside seats on both sides. Dean didn’t really give Cas much of a choice, but he kind of did it on purpose. This way there’s a Dean-shaped barrier between Cas and the rest of the restaurant people. It should help with any anxiety he might have, hopefully. If not, then he’s just going to have to find something else that might work. Dean would very much like to minimize how much drinking Cas does tonight, if possible. If he has another cuddle-bug repeat, he might actually _die_.

They’ve only been checking out their menus for a few minutes before Jo comes back. She has a pad of paper in her hand. “Are you guys ready to order drinks? I can take appetizer and meal orders now too if you want.”

“Drinks first.” Dean taps the corner of the drink menu on the table a few times. “Gimme a water to start. I’ll probably have a beer with dinner later.” He nudges Cas’s elbow with his own. “What about you?”

“A water for me as well, please.” Cas is staring at the menu with the kind of concentrated squint he usually only has when he’s working out what move to make next when they play a game. “But I’m considering getting something else too.”

There’s the edge of a worried frown teasing the corner of Cas’s mouth. Dean watches it dip a little lower as he scans the available drinks. While Jess and Sam place their order, he leans in and drops his voice into a whisper. “Are you worried that _things_ are going to happen if you drink?”

Cas looks up sharply and his glasses slip slightly on his nose. He blinks at Dean for a second; going pale momentarily before a blush builds. “ _No_.”

Yeah, there’s a little twinge of disappointment buried deep in Dean’s chest, but he ignores it in favour of laughing. “A few drinks might help ease your nerves, but you don’t _have_ to drink if you don’t want to. I’m only starting out with a water, y’know.”

“You’re also _driving_ afterwards.” He wrinkles his nose and readjust his glasses. “And, for the record, I wasn’t planning on getting _drunk_ at all tonight. I have a limit of two drinks and two drinks only.” As if that settles the discussion, he closes the drink menu and holds it out to Jo. “Do you have any recommendations for someone who doesn’t like the taste of alcohol?”

She taps the menu against her chin while she thinks about it. “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I’ll ask Mom and the bartender. She’s helping him out right now to deal with the first rush of customers.” Jo pauses before turning her attention to Dean. “Hey, do you know a guy named Ash? About yay tall with a mullet and stoner eyes?”

Now that’s a name he hasn’t heard in a few years. “Yeah. I went to school with a guy like that.” Dean sits back and slings his arm across the back of the bench; careful to keep it from resting on Cas’s shoulders. “He was the smartest kid in school, but I’m pretty sure he was always high. Turned down valedictorian for Cassie to take it, I think. Charlie would know. Why?”

“He’s our new bartender.” Jo jerks her thumb over his shoulder and Dean swivels his head to try and get a look. “Mom absolutely loves him. He put together our whole sound system and wired up her office. I think he’s gotta be part robot with how well he understands computers and everything.” She turns to watch him mix drinks. “We pay him for bartending, but the rest of the stuff he wanted to do for free because Mom’s renting him a stupidly cheap room in the back.”

Oh, right. A while back Jo was contemplating moving out once the renovations were complete. Ellen wanted to cut her personal costs by putting a full suite in the annexed part of the building so she could sell her place and just live here. It’s always been used as her office and storage since she bought the place. They did away with the storage during renovations and added a bathroom and kitchen. Jo was thinking about moving in with her until they decided to just make it a one bedroom. When did Ellen decided to rent to Ash instead of keeping it for herself?

Jo shrugs and tucks her notepad into a pocket of her apron. “Anyways, I just thought I’d check with you. He’s your age, so I thought you might know him.”

“Yup, sure do. I guess.” They weren’t particularly friends in high school, but Dean remembers getting along just fine with Ash in any of the classes they shared. His first joint was shared with Ash too, mostly because everyone knew that he’d share if you joined him in the forest out behind the school. He doesn’t do that anymore, but he’ll have to make a point to stop at the bar to say ‘ _hi_ ’ at some point tonight.

Once Jo takes off to do what she’s gotta do, the table becomes around round robin discussion about what they’re going to eat. By unanimous decision, they all agree to split a plate of nachos as an appetizer, but the rest of the menu is too delicious to decide on a main course. There’s maybe a grand total of twenty things listed covering soups, salads, appetizers, desserts, sides, and mains. The mains are a rather limited selection compared to other restaurants in town, but that just emphasises the fact that this place is split down the middle as a bar.

To their delight, Jo returns only a few minutes later with their drinks. She must be paying special attention to their table, because that was about ten times faster than what any of them expected. Sam ordered a coke, but Jess got herself a glass of red wine because she can totally do that now that she’s twenty-one. For Cas, Jo puts a hurricane glass in front of him, but that’s no hurricane cocktail. It’s tall with a wide brim, but tapers inward a bit before flaring out into a round bottom resting on a short stem. The drink itself is blue, full of ice, and topped with a lemon wedge.

“That’s called a _Blue Lagoon_ , and it should be right up your alley. Let me know if you like it.” Jo puts a straw on the table next to the glass before she whips out her notepad. “Alright, guys. Have you decided on what to order?”

“Nachos to start, for sure.” Dean watches as Cas opens the straw and slides the wrapping off to the corner of the table. “Other than that, not a fucking clue.”

“I’ll go grab some other orders and then I’ll be right back. Make up your mind between then and now, okay?” She taps Dean on the top of the head with her notepad before taking off again. It’s no wonder she doesn’t have time to talk. As far as Dean knows, there’s only one other server working with her and they’re juggling the entire place between the two of them.

Normally he would already know what he wants to eat, but he’s very distracted by Cas’s drink. Particularly with how Cas carefully slides the straw in without disturbing the lemon wedge and then brings the end to his lips. Oh no, oh _no_. Those _thoughts_ are coming back and Dean quickly looks back down at his menu. He needs to make a fucking decision before Jo comes back and he definitely shouldn’t be paying any kind of attention to how Cas makes a pleased hum low in his throat.

Dean makes his decision after giving the menu a good once over. “I think I’m going to go with the tried and true hamburger platter. Can never go wrong with a good ol’ fashioned bacon cheeseburger and fries. What’s everyone else having?”

“That sounds good.” Cas leans over to look at Dean’s menu since his is closed and currently underneath his glass. “I think I’ll have that too.”

Sam and Jess don’t seem to have made their decision yet either. They’re looking at the same menu too and quietly discussing items together like they’re going to share a plate or something. Knowing Sam’s appetite, that’s definitely not going to happen. Not if Jess actually wants to eat anything tonight.

While they’re looking, Jess tips her wine glass over to Sam. “Do you want to try some?”

Oh, this is a prime opportunity for some big brotherly teasing. Dean closes his menu with a snap and leans forward. “Hey now, Jess. You can’t give him _alcohol_. Sammy is _underage_.”

That earns him a swift kick in the shin and a glare that promises death. Dean doesn’t even flinch. He just grins as bright as possible, just _daring_ Sam to say something about it. Rather than use words, Sam very purposefully reaches for Jess’s glass – only to yank his hand back at the last second. He clears his throat and lifts the menu again. “No thank you, Jess. Maybe next time.”

Even though his menu is open, Sam’s eyes are telling a whole different story. He keeps looking at Dean and then glancing over his shoulder. That can only mean one thing and Dean sits up straighter, lowering his arm from where it was _oh so close_ to being across Cas’s shoulders. Sure enough, his parents are approaching Bobby’s booth when he turns to confirm his suspicions. Of course Sam wasn’t going to be dumb enough to try and sneak an illegal sip while they’re around. He’s allowed a beer or other kind of drink under their supervision at home, in public is an entirely different matter.

“Hey, Cas. Come with me.” Dean taps him on the thigh and gestures for him to follow as he gets up.

Cas gives him a momentarily confused look before starting to slide across the seat to follow after him. By the time he’s on his feet, Dean has his mom in a bear hug and is in the process of giving her a big smacking kiss on the cheek. It’s a bit over the top, but he does it purely for how she struggles and laughs. The best thing in the world is making his mom laugh. She shoves him away and makes a big show of wiping her cheek clean, and all Dean can do is grin at her while he shakes his dad’s hand.

“You guys remember Cas, right?” They never see him during the week unless they get coffee _really_ early before their shift. The only time Dean can ever recall them actually meeting was the Halloween party, and that was forever ago.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Cas actually smiles, and it’s not just his customer smile.

He holds out his hand for what would be an excellent handshake, but Mom slaps it away. She laughs and pulls him in to a tight hug. “You employ one and you’re best friends with the other. You’re practically family and that means _hugs_.”

Dean snorts a laugh and mouths an apology over his mom’s shoulder. He knows how Cas is about other people touching him, but there’s no escaping a Mary Winchester hug once she’s decided you’re getting one. There were several years of dramatic teenage sulking to back that up. He could brood all he wanted, but those hugs melted even the most dour of teenage moods. At least Cas doesn’t look like he’s about to have a panic attack from the hug. In fact, he’s actually smiling.

The only one with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes is Dad. He nods along as if he’s agreeing with Mom’s greetings, but he’s got that stony look that Dean knows all too well. It’s his ‘ _barely tolerating this_ ’ face and it’s making Dean’s mood drop faster than the New Year’s Eve ball. Is Dad _really_ going to pull his racist bullshit _here_ of all places? Cas isn’t the only Creature in the room, and it’s rude as fuck for him to treat any of them different than he would a Human. Honestly, this is probably the only thing about his dad that Dean actually hates.

On the bright side, Cas doesn’t even seem to notice. He shakes Dad’s hand and greets him just the same before Sam interrupts everything to introduce Jess. If they ever met her at the Halloween party, then Dean didn’t notice. At least Dad seems genuine with his smile as they step up – all because he doesn’t have a clue that she’s a Siren. If he knew, it would probably be the exact same as Cas, if not worse. Dad doesn’t know Dean likes Cas. Everyone and their dog knows that Sam likes Jess.  

“Mom, Dad, this is Jess. She works at the café with me.” Sam basically elbows Dean out of the way to make room for the two of them. “Jess, this is my Mom; Mary, and my dad; John.”

Cas side steps out of the way, looking a little relieved to be free of Mom’s hug. “Jess is an excellent baker and does my brother’s job quite well when he’s not in.”

An honest to goodness blush fills Jess’s cheeks and she flaps her hand at Cas. “Don’t praise me in front of people! You know how it makes me blush.” She laughs and holds out a hand to Mom. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Almost immediately, a grin spreads across Mom’s face and it sends a chill down Dean’s spine. Sam has the same reaction to it, but he actually pales slightly. They both know what that smile means. Mom is up to no good, and it’s made all the worse when _Dad_ gets the same smile. He puts his arm around Mom’s shoulders as she clasps Jess’s hand between both of hers.

“It’s _so_ nice to _finally_ meet you!” Mom has that sugary sweet tone that makes all of them and Sam has gotta be regretting his life choices. “Sam has told us _so_ much about you!”

Dad nods in agreement. “Oh yes, it feels like we already know you!”

Sam goes so red that he must have ruptured something in his face from it. Dean bites his lip hard enough to hurt, if only to keep himself from laughing. He’s going to die. Oh dear God, he’s going to die because this is just _too_ funny. Cas is looking at him funny, and that’s a real shame. He doesn’t know Dean’s parents well enough to recognize the teasing and the hilarity of this whole situation is being completely lost on him.

Thankfully, for Sam’s sake, their parents actually keep the teasing to a minimum. If Jess picks up on it, she doesn’t show it. As luck would have it, Jo shows up with their nachos a few minutes later and that brings all the socializing to an end. Nachos are obviously more important and both their parents definitely understand it.

Instead of sticking around to take their meal orders, Jo moves over a booth to take Mom and Dad’s drink orders. That’s good, because while Dean and Cas have more or less decided what they’re having, Sam and Jess are still perusing the menu. Seriously, how could they not have already decided? It’s not like the menu has _that_ many options. Well, whatever. They’re not in any rush to eat and Dean has nachos to satisfy him for now.

Cas pulls a chip from the pile and Dean notices his frown. He nudges his arm. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“A jalapeno came with my chip.” Cas points at the jalapeno hanging by a string of cheese from his chip. The look he’s giving it is like the jalapeno personally offended him. “I don’t like them.”

That’s seriously cute and Dean tries not to laugh at it. He takes two relatively clean chips from the nacho pile and uses them to pinch and cut the cheese so he ends up with the jalapeno. “There. If you pull any again, just give ‘me to me. I’ll take care of the big mean hot peppers for you.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Thank you.”

Dean opens his mouth to answer, or maybe even tease a little bit, but the sudden absence of music is really distracting. He turns his head to find Ellen standing on the stage. She taps the microphone a few times before bringing it to her lips. “Good evening, ladies and gents! Thank you all for coming to _The Roadhouse_ ’s grand re-opening. The first contest of the night is going to take place in a few minutes, so I thought I’d give y’all a bit of a heads up about it.”

Ellen gestures out at the dance floor in front of her where Ash and Jo are setting up a couple long tables in front of the stage. “We’re going to kick it off with a good ol’ fashioned _drinking contest_. Whoever can drink the most pints of beer in sixty seconds will win their meal of the night on us. To sweeten the deal, all contestants get what they drink during the contest free. If you’re interested in trying your luck, come on up to the dance floor!”

She steps off the stage to a chorus of cheers, and Dean is probably one of the loudest among them. Oh _man_ , he would kick so much ass at this contest if he was going to enter it. This is exactly the kind of shit that he used to do when he was in high school. Those were his _wild_ days, so to speak. He used to sneak out at night after everyone had gone to bed so he could go to a grown up party. That’s where the weed, the beer, and the ladies were and it was fun – at the time.

His wild days were relatively short lived. Dean did it a few times a month for the course of a summer. He was heading into his senior year in high school and it just seemed like that was the cool thing to do. It was fun right up until his dad caught him sneaking back in one night. He put the fear of God into Dean that night and he _never_ did it again after that.

Speaking of his Dad, he and Bobby walk past their booth right about then. Dad stops and knocks on the end of their table, looking pointedly at Dean. “You coming?”

Dean pauses with a nacho halfway to his mouth. “Uh –”

Bobby snorts and puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Don’t bother the boy. He’s with his friends and he’s the _designated driver_.”

With a disapproving click of his tongue, Dad shakes his head and follows after Bobby; the both of them heading for the dance floor. They were just teasing, of course, but Dean narrows his eyes to glare after them. They were the ones who instilled the whole _don’t drink and drive_ rule with him and now they’re pulling this shit on him? How _dare_ they!

Sam reaches over and taps him on the back of the hand. “Hey, give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

Like the awesome little brother that he is, Sam comes through for him time and time again. “You sure?”

“Yup. Go kick their asses.”

Dean glances at Cas, looking for his approval. “You okay with this?”

“It’s not my place to say.” Cas shrugs, but he doesn’t look up from his drink.

“Uh, yes it is.” He bumps Cas’s elbow until he actually looks at him. “You’re my guest tonight. I’m not gonna drink a shit ton of beer if you’d rather I stay sober while we hang out.” It’s been a long time since he actually drank enough for anything to have an effect on him while he and Cas were hanging out, but he doesn’t want to do things that would make him uncomfortable.

Cas stares at him over the rims of his glasses for a few moments before he hums softly. I’m actually a little curious to see what you would be like. If you promise that we don’t have another New Year’s Eve incident, then by all means, go.”

Oh yeah. _That_ would be the last time Dean had enough alcohol to be affected. He was only a little bit tipsy, but it was enough to think certain things were good ideas when they really weren’t. He ducks his head as he stands up. “I promise that it won’t happen again. But – hey – you wanna come too?”

“I’ll come to watch you win.” Cas slides down the bench to get up too. “But I will not drink. I’ve had beer before and it wasn’t even remotely enjoyable.”

Jess nods in agreement. “It’s an acquired taste.” She flashes a smile at Dean and gives him a double thumbs up. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“You bet your ass I will.” Dean high-fives Sam as he walks by, heading to the dance floor with Cas in tow.

Mom is standing with the crowd gathered around the tables. There are chairs set up at them no and most of them are filled with a handful of other guys and girls. Dean leaves Cas with his mom before he takes a seat opposite where Bobby and his dad are sitting. Neither looks surprised to see him there and they both grin at him. Dean makes a face at them, which is a little difficult to do around his own smile.

Jo, Ash, and Ellen serve out five pints to each person. It’s going to be tough to down _all_ of those in a whole five minutes, but Dean will try. There are more pints prepared on another table, but Dean doubts that anyone is going to need them. This isn’t the world drinking championships where people have _trained_ for this kind of shit. It’s just a couple regular Joe Blow type folks wanting to have some fun and get a free meal out of it.

Ellen takes her place at the end of the table and places a large novelty timer on it. “Y’all ready?”

Cheers go up from everyone seated at both sides of the table _and_ from the gathered crowd. She grins as she moves the hand on the timer to the _sixty_ mark. “Gather yourselves now, folks. I’m going to hit this button and you’ve got sixty seconds to finish as many pints as you can. Only an empty glass will count towards your score. Half empties will be taken into consideration in the event of a tie.”

Dean takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down as they all put their hands on the edge of the table to get ready. He catches Cas’s eye and grins. Cas mouths ‘ _good luck_ ’ at him with a thumbs up. It somehow looks ten times more dorky than when Jess did it, but Dean loves it anyways. He winks and mouths ‘ _thank you_ ’ before turning his attention back to Ellen.

She’s building up the excitement for a few seconds before she slams the button. “ _Go_!”

He brings the first pint to his lips and relaxes his throat. It’s been a long time since he’s _chugged_ anything like this, but he’ll give it the good ol’ college try. Later on, though, he’ll look back on this moment and decide that doing the contest was a really stupid thing to do.

_** ** _

Castiel has never witnessed a drinking contest before, but he’s not sure if he’s impressed or horrified by how quickly Dean puts away his beer. By the time the buzzer rings at sixty seconds, Dean is just polishing off his _fourth_ pint. He slams the empty mug down with a loud exhale that could quite possibly have been a burp, and grins at Bobby and John. His father had just picked up his fourth beer, but he hadn’t even started drink it yet. He had been matching Bobby drink for drink, meaning they _both_ lost to Dean. The three of them have more empty pints on the table than any of the other drinkers.

While he might be torn between impressed and not, Castiel still cheers claps excitedly as Ellen holds up one of Dean’s hands to pull him to his feet, announcing him as the winner. Next to him, Mary whoops loudly. “That’s _my_ baby!”

Dean steps aside with Ellen, likely to discuss his winnings. It’s a quick conversation before he returns to the table to shake hands with the rest of the competitors. He returns to Castiel’s side with a bounce in his step and a smile on his lips. “Did you see that, Cas? Did you? I _won_.”

“I did.” Castiel nods and pats him on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Good job, baby!” Mary pulls Dean into a hug and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

A blush stains Dean’s cheeks, but he puffs up in delight. “Dad laid down the challenge and there was no way in hell that I wasn’t going to step up to it.”

Truthfully, he _wasn’t_ going to step up to it until Castiel told him he could. It really was sweet that Dean didn’t want to drink because of him. He knows that Castiel would rather not drink and doesn’t find it enjoyable to be surrounded by drunk people, and he kept that in mind. Dean really is such a considerate person. It’s one of his favourite things about him.

They make their way back to their booth. Jess and Sam have made a sizeable dent in the nachos, but they both congratulate Dean on his victory and shove the rest of the plate over to their side of the table. Castiel uses his fork to carefully move some jalapenos from one side of the nachos to the other so he can eat them without having to pick them off every time he picks up a chip.

“Good job, Winchester.” Jo approaches their booth with a smile. She has her notepad out again and she wiggles it in his direction. “What do you want for your free meal?”

Dean hums and pretends like he’s looking at the menu. “I think Cas and I are going to have the bacon cheeseburger platters. I’m gonna have fries with mine.”

“And salad for me, please.” Castiel would prefer the fries, but he has a plan. He nudges Dean’s elbow as he passes him his menu. “And you _will_ split your fries with my salad.”

With a groan, Dean hands the menus off to Jo with one hand while reaching for more nachos. He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “ _Fine_.”

Good. Castiel sits back while Jess and Sam place their orders, satisfied with himself. He has noticed a significant lack of vegetables in Dean’s diet and, as a firefighter, his health is very important. Whenever they have a meal together at Castiel’s home, he always makes sure that Dean gets some form of vegetable in him; whether it be a salad, carrot sticks, or otherwise. It never really occurred to him that it might be a little weird to involve himself in Dean’s dietary habits. That’s a normal thing for friends to worry about, isn’t it?

After Sam has ordered his taco salad and Jess has ordered her chicken pasta, Jo reads back their orders. Once they’ve confirmed that it is all correct, she turns to Dean and taps her pen on the notepad. “Okay, and the burger with the salad is free, right?”

Dean has a mouthful of chips at that point and he makes a choking noise as if he swallowed wrong. He coughs into his fist a few times before turning a glare on her. Jo smiles back at him, completely unmoved by his efforts. Castiel, however, has been affected. He doesn’t completely understand what she just said and he taps Dean on the shoulder to get his attention

“Why is _my_ meal the free one?” Isn’t the winner of the contest supposed to have the free meal?

Instead of answering, Dean turns an interesting shade of red. Jo leans forward with one hand on the edge of the table and gestures at him with her notepad. “Dean told my mom that he wants _your_ meal to be free tonight.”

“But – why?” He has the feeling that he knows why, but he needs the confirmation.

“Because you’re my guest.”

Dean mumbles his answer with a shrug, but he also won’t look at him. Castiel knows what that means and he pushes back on the bubble of happiness that balloons under his ribs. His meal is essentially being paid for because this is a _date_ , albeit an unofficial one.  He could fight it and insist that he pay for his own meal, but he doesn’t really want to. At least not in public. They can talk in private about laying down the ground rules for their practice dates prior to said dates.

Castiel puts on a smile and taps his glass against Dean’s. “Thank you. Next time will be on me.”

He knows he made the right choice when Dean turns a smile on him so bright that it rivals the sun. It’s full of such sheer delight that it cause Castiel’s stomach to do a little flip. A flipping stomach is not so good when he’s all but completely emptied his drink. It makes him briefly dizzy and Castiel pretends to busy himself with having a few more nachos in the hopes that no one will notice.

Sam clears his throat and gestures at Jo to get her attention. “And – uh – Jess’s meal is on me too.”

Jess looks surprised before her smile goes soft. She leans into Sam’s side slightly and puts her hand on his arm. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

A blush fills Sam’s face and he ducks his head, looking far too please with himself. His crush on Jess is cute and Castiel hopes that things go well for the both of them. He’s fairly certain that Jess returns his feelings somewhat. At least she has never said anything to come off as sounding like she didn’t like Sam.

“I think I’m going to go get a new drink from the bar before we get our food.” Dean stands up and glances at Castiel curiously while he pulls his keys out of his pocket. “You want to come with? I need to get the taste of beer out of my mouth and water isn’t gonna cut it.” He hands the keys off to Sam; something he hadn’t actually done before the contest.

Castiel lifts his glass to check how much is actually left of his drink, and it’s only ice that is slightly tinted blue. “I think I could go for another.” And he would much rather that Dean have _some_ supervision.

They make their way to the bar by weaving their way between the tables. If he had to be honest, Castiel would admit that he _is_ somewhat worried – the vaguest sense of the word – about Dean drinking tonight. It’s not because he doesn’t think that Dean would be an irresponsible drink. Knowing what he knows about him, Castiel has full trust in him in that regard. His only concern is that the last time he was with a slightly inebriated Dean… he was almost kissed.

His heart flutters almost painfully at the memory. Castiel even presses a hand to his chest, somewhat worried about that feeling. There’s far too much _hope_ mixed in with his fear for his liking. What happens if Dean _does_ drink too much and tries to kiss him again tonight? He hopes that it won’t. Castiel doesn’t want a repeat of that event – if only because he knows he might not be able to refuse it this time.

The bartender greets Dean with a hearty handshake over the bar and a lopsided smile. “Dean! Long time no see and congrats on the win earlier! What can I get for ya, man?”

“Let’s start with a whiskey, neat.” Dean grins and takes a seat on one of the stools. He gestures at the one next to him for Castiel to take. “This is my buddy, Cas. He’s Sammy’s boss. You remember my little brother, right? Cas, this is Ash. I went to school with him.”

“Hard to forget that kid.” As if to emphasise his point, Ash makes a gesture well above his head. It’s far taller than Sam actually is, but Castiel gets the gist of it. He also can’t help but wonder just how long Sam has been as tall as he is.

While Dean and Ash chat briefly about how their lives have been recently, Castiel makes a show of checking the drink menus that are spaced out across the bar top. He doesn’t really need to look at it, since he doesn’t plan to really drink much more than water tonight. The Blue Lagoon that Jo got for him is rather tasty and he’ll probably order another one or two of those throughout the evening.

He’s still reading the menu when Ash puts another Blue Lagoon and a glass of water down in front of him. Ash winks before putting out Dean’s whiskey and water and heading down the bar to take some orders from Jo. Dean tilts his glass to tap it against Castiel’s before he downs it.

Once he pushes his glass away and throws a few dollars down on the bartender’s side of the counter as a tip, he turns on the stool to face him. “Hey, I probably should have gone over this in the car, but I got something to tell you.” He glances around before leaning in and dropping his voice into a whisper. “Not that many people know that I’m bi, okay? So, don’t – um – don’t _talk_ about it. Please.”

Well, this is a surprise. “Okay?” Castiel can’t really think of anything else to say. Dean has never really been _subtle_ about flirting with him. Admittedly, he isn’t the best judge of that. Castiel did take far too long to realize that he was being flirted with, after all.

Dean ducks his head and picks up his water. He leads Castiel away from the bar. “I know it doesn’t make much sense considering things, but I’ve kept the fact that I like dudes on the down low. Mom and Dad just think that I brought you along because I couldn’t find a date.”

“But you _did_ find a date.” Castiel hums before taking a sip of his drink through the straw. At the confused look that gets thrown his way, he makes a vague gesture at himself before raising an eyebrow.

That brings Dean to a stop. He turns to face him again, his cheeks slowly turning red. “So this – uh – this _is_ going to be one of your practice dates?”

“Am I wrong in assuming that it was?” He tilts his head to one side, frowning slightly. It just seemed like the obvious conclusion to make.

After a moment and a long drink of his water, Dean shakes his head and flashes him a smile. “No, I guess it wasn’t.” He glances away and must spot someone he knows. “I know you’re not going to like this, but I gotta keep up the social front for a bit and at least say hi to the folks I know. Is that okay?”

“Would you like me to go with you? I could wait at the table instead.” In all honestly, neither option sounds good. Castiel feels most comfortable when he’s with Dean, but he also doesn’t really want to have to be introduced to strangers. While he understands social protocol, it still irks him.

“It’s up to you, Cas. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Castiel takes a few moments to think about it before he shakes his head. “I think I’ll wait for you at the table.” And hopefully Dean won’t mind that too much.

“Yeah, of course.” There’s no hint of disappointment in Dean’s understanding smile. He pats Castiel on the shoulder before heading off.

With a soft sigh, Castiel returns to the booth. Jess and Sam are in a heated conversation about something having to do with university and they hardly acknowledge him as he sits down. That’s just fine with him. He would rather stew about this new revelation. It’s rather disappointing to know that Dean wants to keep that aspect of his sexuality _on the down low_. While their dates are not overly obvious, or even that they’re dating in the first place, Castiel still feels disappointed.

Does Dean want to keep it a secret because he’s ashamed of his sexuality? Or is he just not ready to tell other people about it? As far as Castiel knows, most of Dean’s coworkers already know that he’s attracted to him. Nick has hinted and teased about it almost every time that he’s come into the café. Though Castiel hasn’t gotten a confirmation about it, he’s fairly certain that Sam knows too. All of the café employees know, but that’s because Gabriel can’t keep his mouth shut.

Regardless, it’s not any of his business to out Dean to those closest to him. If he isn’t comfortable with letting his parents know about his sexuality yet, then Castiel has to respect that. That’s what a good friend would do. A _good_ friend wouldn’t be disappointed that no one else is going to know that Dean likes _him_. It’s not that he wanted to flaunt that to everyone else that Dean knows, but it’s – it’s just a very complicated feeling that’s knotting itself up in his stomach.

By the time Dean returns to the table, he’s overall demeanor seems more loose and giggly than before. His smile is certainly easier and he drops onto the booth bench a little harder than he would before. There’s another whiskey in his hand and Castiel can’t help but wonder if the beers he had during the contest are starting to hit him. Or maybe it’s the whiskey? How many has he had since he went off on his own? He was on water when Castiel saw him last and that wasn’t more than ten minutes ago.

Dean laughs and leans against his shoulder when he gestures at Sam and Jess. “Hey, you two. Have you been leaving Cas outta things? That’s _mean_.”

They both look at him with wide eyes and open mouths. They look to Castiel too and he shrugs. “I didn’t try to join the conversation. It’s fine.”

With a scoff, Dean sits up straighter. He’s about to speak, but Jo arrives in the nick of time. She has two plates in hand and the second server is next to her with the other two. “The food has arrived!”

To Castiel’s surprise, there is both fries and salad already on his plate. Dean’s plate is the same and they both look to Jo. She shrugs as she passes Jess her pasta. “You were going to split it up anyways, so I just had them do it in the kitchen. I figured there was less of a chance of a mess if I did it this way.”

“You’re a goddamn _gem_ , Jo.” Dean reaches out to loop an arm around her waist. He pulls her into a hug that has everyone at the table staring at him.

Without missing a beat, Jo reaches over to switch Dean’s whiskey with Castiel’s water. “Here. I think you need this more than he does. Now get some damn food in you before you drink anything else.” She throws Castiel an apologetic glance. “I’ll bring you a new water right away.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he laughs and complies. He takes a few sips of the water before digging into his fries. Castiel, Jess, and Sam at least have the decency to thank Jo before she leaves. They start on their meals and a surprised sound of delight rumbles in Castiel’s throat at the first bite of his burger. The second has his eyes flutter shut for a moment. When he opens them again, everyone is staring at him.

He lowers his burger in embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but this burger is _amazing_.”

Though he looks doubtful, Dean picks up his own burger and takes a bite too. After a moment of chewing, he groans and sags back in his seat. “Oh my God, he’s _right_.”

“We need to speak to Ellen after this.” Castiel forces himself to put his burger down and focus on either the fries or the salad. He doesn’t want to eat the whole thing without touching anything else.

Dean frowns at him around another bite. “How come?”

“I would like to compliment her on her burgers.” Castiel has had many hamburgers from many different restaurant over the years, and this is single handedly the most flavourful one he’s had. There’s a sauce on the patty itself that is simply delightful, but the meat has a seasoning in it that he can’t put his finger on. Whatever it is, it’s amazing.

Sam breaks off a piece of the taco that makes up the bowl of his salad. “I don’t think she’s the one who actually cooked them, Cas.”

“Then I will also want to speak with the chef afterwards.” He doesn’t care. As long as he gets to speak to whomever created this work of art, he’ll be happy.

Dean snorts a laugh and tucks into his burger again. Castiel happily follows suite, though he paces himself. Jess and Sam seem to be doing the same. Despite Dean’s return to the table, they slip back into the conversation they were having before. Now that Castiel isn’t tied up in his own thoughts, he understands that they’re discussing what school was like for Jess. He listens with half an ear, but otherwise pays more attention to his food.

The two of them have hardly worked through half their plates by the time Dean and Castiel have finished theirs off. Granted, the two of them were more interested in eating than they were talking. Normally they have excellent conversations while they eat, but both of them are rather absorbed in their meals. Which is fine. They don’t _always_ have to be talking. In fact, that’s one of the things Castiel likes about their friendship. He likes that they’re perfectly comfortable sitting together without saying a word; whether it’s while eating, playing a board game, or watching a movie.

They wait until they’re plates are completely empty before getting up to seek out another drink at the bar. Jo dropped off another water, but Castiel finished both that and his Blue Lagoon. Besides that, he wants to find Ellen and getting another drink was the perfect excuse to get Dean  to go with him. And Ash is just the person to call for her from wherever she’s hidden herself.

“You’re adorable for wanting to do this, Cas.” Dean bumps his elbow as they wait at the bar.

That is perhaps not the same adjective he would use, but it does bring heat to burn under his skin. “It’s just the nice thing to do. She should know that all the hard work she did in redoing _The Roadhouse_ is appreciated. She did a good job and I want to tell that to her.” It’s probably the only time that he’ll ever actually _want_ to speak to a stranger. But, as a business owner himself, he knows how important feedback is and he has always gone out of his way to complete customer satisfaction surveys whenever they’re offered to him.

Ellen arrives just as Ash passes them their drinks. Castiel turns his attention on her after Dean makes a brief introduction between the two of them. “I’m aware that you might not have been the one to actually make our food, but I wanted you to know that the bacon cheeseburger platter was sublime. It was the best burger I’ve had in quite possibly my whole life.”

“I feel like you might be exaggerating there a bit.” She laughs, but her smile tells Castiel that she is genuinely pleased with the compliment. “Thank you, anyways. I didn’t do the cooking, but I did mix the meat and sauce with my special seasonings. We also fire grill our meat, which seals in more flavour than pan grilling.”

Now that is something Castiel was not aware of. He’ll make a note about that. Maybe they should get a barbeque that they can put on the roof. “Your recipe is excellent. I couldn’t quite figure out the seasoning in the meat, but the sauce on the meat complimented it nicely.”

“Thanks, kid.” She grins, clearly proud of herself. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not in the business of sharing my recipes.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t dream of asking you to.” Castiel shakes his head, hoping that he didn’t somehow insult her by accidentally insinuating that he did. “I’m not sure a burger would fit with what we serve at my café anyways. Either way, I will definitely be returning again, or – are you perhaps considering on offering delivery?”

“Maybe one day if I grow the menu some, but it’s not on my priority list.” Ellen shakes her head as she slides onto one of the bar stools. “But for a friend of Dean’s, I might make an exception. If you _really_ want it, I could arrange for Jo to bring it to you.”

“Oh no. You don’t have to do that. I’ll gladly steal my brother’s car to make the drive for pick up.” Castiel shares a smile with her.

Ellen’s smile falls into a frown briefly. “Wait a sec. You own a café?” She tilts her head to look from Castiel to Dean, who is sitting behind him and is apparently in the middle of talking with Ash. “OH! You’re the guy from _The Graveyard Shift_! Jo has mentioned you once or twice and she’s brought me some of the coffee you guys make. It’s pretty good.”

“Thank you. We grind and blend the beans ourselves.” Castiel is rather proud of it. “There are actually two of us. We own one café that goes by two names, depending on the kind of day. My brother runs _Trick or Treat_ during the day, and I run _The Graveyard Shift_ at night.”

Now that they’ve identified each other as business owners, Castiel isn’t surprised that their conversation quickly descends into discussing business strategies and what they’ve noticed about their customer base since they are both open at the same time of day. They both cater to different people with different things, but it’s still an interesting topic to share. Castiel hasn’t really had the chance to talk with other business owners before and it’s an enlightening conversation.

He’s not entirely sure what it is, but he’s surprised by how easy it is to talk with Ellen. Perhaps it’s her maternal air, or the few drinks that he has in his system, but he’s actually _comfortable_ while speaking with her. Castiel doesn’t feel anxious or awkward while talking with her, and it’s rather refreshing. A little weird, but refreshing.

“Hey, Mr. BusinessMan.” Dean interrupts their conversation a while later by slinging an arm around his shoulders and across his chest as he leans against Castiel’s back. “Y’still talking?”

It has been a while since they started talking and he does feel a little bad that he’s essentially been ignoring Dean during the whole time. “I’m sorry, yes. Would you like to return to the booth now?”

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head as he slips off the stool, his arm sliding around to rest across Castiel’s shoulders instead. “Just letting you know that I’ve gotta hit the head. Y’gonna be okay hanging with Ellen for a bit?”

“Yes, Dean, I’ll be fine.” Castiel turns on the stool to look up at him. “I’m sorry that I’ve been –”

Dean shushes him by placing a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even. S’fine, okay?” He grins and moves his hand to pat Castiel on the cheek. “S’good to see you playing nice with others.” With a laugh, he heads off towards the washroom signs on the other side of the room.

Out of curiosity and a little bit of suspicion, Castiel turns around. There are a few empty bottles of beer and one solitary glass of ice on the counter where he Dean had been sitting. Ash was obviously serving him and the waitresses while Castiel was busy talking. But how much did he drink? Was that glass for water or for some other alcoholic beverage? Has Ash cleared any away? Oh dear God, how much has Dean had to drink? Castiel quickly tries to mentally calculate how much Dean might have had to drink and can only come to the conclusion that he might very well be drunk. He’s never seen Dean like this before. Tipsy, but never _drunk_. He’ll have to keep his eye on him and keep his guard up for any potential surprise kisses.

That aside, he’s a little surprised by how fine he is to sit here with Ellen and talk with her. Here he is, surrounded by people he doesn’t know without Dean, and he’s not feeling like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. Sam and Jess are the only other people here that he trusts and they’re both within shouting distance if he needs them. But he doesn’t. Castiel doesn’t need them because he’s not freaking out and that is _fantastic_.

He’s made so much progress since the beginning of the year when it comes to social events. It’s hard not to feel a little bit excited about that. Castiel will have to thank Dean for the influence he’s had on him. There is a high chance that he might not be completely aware of how much he’s affected changes within him. Castiel feels like that’s an important thing to know. If their positions were reversed, he knows _he_ would be happy to hear that.

Several minutes pass while Dean is gone and Castiel and Ellen get drawn into an interesting conversation regarding the benefits of the café being open around the clock versus only being open during the day. In the middle of giving her opinion, Ellen pauses and her focus shifts to something over Castiel’s shoulder. She brings a hand up and points. “Oh dear. I don’t think Dean is going to be coming back any time soon.”

A brief flash of panic flares bright in Castiel’s chest as he turns around. It subsides quickly when he spots Dean. He’s been cornered by his mother on the edge of the dance floor. There’s a moment where Dean throws him a wild, almost panicked kind of look before Mary drags him into a group of dancers. Jess and Sam are already a part of the group and they seem to be having fun.

Castiel covers his mouth to hide his smile as Dean is essentially forced into dancing with his mom. Well, ‘ _forced’_ might be too strong a word. It seems to take no time at all to get him to start pulling dance moves that seem familiar though Castiel can’t seem to remember their names. Either way, they’re all ridiculous. There’s the one where he points at the air and then at his opposite hip, as if he were moving a giant sewing needle. And there’s another where it looks like he’s stirring a giant pot, his hips moving opposite to his hands.

No matter the dance he does, Dean’s body moves in sync to the music. It’s a little bit hypnotic. Castiel has to focus on looking at his face, or he might just lose all ability to thing. Dean is the only one on the dance floor blushing as hard as he is. Clearly he’s embarrassed to be dancing with his mom, but he’s still grinning and laughing. To see him having so much fun is a heartwarming sight and Castiel wishes he could sit and watch it all night.

Bobby and John approach the bar a few moments later and Ellen waves them over. “Hey, John! How come you’re not dancing with your wife, huh?”

“She knows I don’t do anything but the slow dances with her.” He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose at the mere idea of dancing like Dean is.

With a loud laugh, Bobby smacks him on the back. “The boy has to suffer because his old man has two left feet! Isn’t that right, Winchester?”

Ellen laughs along with them, but Castiel only chuckles quietly to himself. There is no chance of returning to a conversation with Ellen now that Bobby and John are here. He’s fine with that, though. It’s nice to just sit and watch Dean go from embarrassed to simply happy to spend time with his family. He remains dancing with them until the music changes to more a more country-like genre. Those on the dance floor break into lines and Dean takes that chance to withdraw completely.

When he reaches the bar and where Castiel is still waiting, he’s all flushed and sweaty, but smiling. “Cas! Y’should come and join us!”

Castiel shakes his head and holds out the glass of water he’s been nursing. “Here, have this.”

“Only if you come dance with us.” Dean takes the glass, but he grabs him by the wrist to pull him off of the stool. “Please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t actually intend to dance, but Dean chugs the water quickly. He puts the glass on the counter and starts tugging Castiel toward the dance floor. “Come dance with me!”

The fuzzy memories he has of dancing with Dean at the club resurface and it makes Castiel hesitate all the more. He wants but doesn’t actually _want_ a repeat of that happening – and especially in front of those that Dean is still hiding his bisexuality from. But he’s adamant and Castiel can only hold out for so long. He eventually has to give in and Dean drags him back to the dance floor. A line dance is well under way, and he realizes quite suddenly that there is a problem with this plan.

“Dean, I don’t know how to line dance.”

“S’fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He holds Castiel by the arm and gets them into place at the end of the line. “Just watch my feet and follow along. We’re gonna do the _electric slide_.”

Castiel flounders for an argument, but he really has none. How can he refuse a dance he doesn’t know when Dean is offering to teach it to him? All he can do is allow himself to get pulled along, watching as he does crossovers, toe taps, and stomps. It’s actually a simple pattern once he observes it and he catches on fairly quickly – until they have to turn and Dean is now _behind_ him instead of beside him.

“Hey, I got’cha.”

Dean puts his hands on Castiel’s shoulders and guides him from side to side, forward, and back again. He even announces each step and turn until it’s obvious that Castiel has it down. Once they get to that point, Dean steps away to put a few feet between them, just like the rest of the people in line. Castiel feels a little ridiculous, but he can’t keep a smile from his face when he has Dean laughing so happily next to him. He really didn’t know what to expect when he came out tonight, but he’s glad that they’re all having fun.

They dance for a few songs before returning to the booth to relax for a while. Dean works his way through another beer and a glass of water before the announcement for the mechanical bull is made. He’s made himself fairly comfortable in the booth by then; leaning against Castiel’s arm while chatting with him, or with Sam and Jess whenever they sit down.

“Are you going to ride the bull?” Castiel feels the need to point it out when Dean doesn’t appear to react to the announcement in any way.

“Huh?” He lifts his head to glance around. When he spots where they’re laying down mats in the middle of the dance floor, he breaks into a bright smile. “Oh, hell _yeah_ I am!”

As soon as he stands up, he wobbles slightly on his feet. Castiel makes the executive decision to pull him down into the booth again. “Maybe you should wait until next time? I don’t want you to throw up by getting tossed around after drinking so much.”

Dean huffs and tries to get up again. “Cas, I’m _fine_. I’m totally a-okay.”

No, he most certainly isn’t. This time Castiel grabs him by the hand rather than his sleeve and yanks him back down. “If you don’t do it tonight, then I _promise_ that we will come back the next time they have the bull and I will ride it too.” Part of him hopes that Dean had had too much to drink to remember this.

After a long, quiet pause, Dean folds his hand around his own where they rest on the bench between them. He gives it a hard squeeze as he turns to him, his eyes wide and hopeful. “ _Really_? You _promise_?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Then text it to me. I want it in _writing_.”

Castiel sighs and does as he’s told. There go his chances of Dean forgetting it. He has to send the text message one handed because his other hand is still trapped. Even though Dean can probably feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, Castiel shows him that he sent it before he puts his phone away.

“Satisfied?”

“Yup!” Dean grins at him before turning his smile on Sam. “What about you, Sammy? Y’gonna ride the bull and get Jess all impressed and stuff?”

There’s a moment of silence before Sam stands up. “I’m going to do it!”

“And I’m going to watch!” Jess stands up and rescues her phone from her purse before she follows after him. She pauses only to wiggle the phone at Dean with a wink. “ _And_ I’m going to record it!”

As they disappear into the crowd starting to gather around the dance floor, Castiel nudges Dean’s shoulder. “We should go watch too.”

“I’m good here.” He shakes his head and leans against Castiel’s side; squeezing his hand again. “I’m gonna watch from here. Sam doesn’t watch me watchin’ anyways.”

That’s all well and good, but Castiel is starting to feel just a little trapped by Dean’s hand. He’s still holding it and it’s making him feel too hot throughout his whole body. He squirms slightly, trying to get comfortable when his whole body is starting to feel itchy. “I would like to go watch him.”

Dean’s smile falls slightly, but he lets go of Castiel’s hand finally. “Yeah, okay.”

He stands up and waits for Castiel to stand too before they start towards the dance floor. Rather than go straight there, Dean makes a detour at the bar to get another beer. Once he has that, they join Mary, John, and Bobby at the edge of the ring of mattresses. Dean is more reserved while he nurses the beer, and Castiel hates knowing that it’s because of him. His fingers keep twitching and he’s hand to stuff them in his pockets to keep from reaching for Dean’s hand again.

Thankfully, Sam is one of the first to get to go on the mechanical bull and _that_ perks Dean’s mood right back up again. He cheers and laughs louder than anyone as Sam climbs up onto to be thrown off within seconds of it starting up. It was a short lived attempt, but it was enough to pull Dean out of his momentary funk. He’s perfectly happy to stand and watch the rest of the riders.  Any frowns are all but completely forgotten when they return to their booth to find that Jo has surprised them with slices of pie. Dean is all smiles as he eats his with a near disgusting gusto.

By then it’s pushing well past ten o’clock in the evening and Castiel unfortunately has to end the fun early. He clears his throat to get their attention as Sam and Jess excitedly discuss what they could do next. “I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities, but I really do have to go.”

He works at eleven o’clock and he wants to change into something more comfortable before then. It would also be nice to have a few moments to relax before starting work. Besides that, Dean should also go home too. He has a shift in the morning and he really shouldn’t have had so much to drink tonight. Castiel will have to chastise him properly in the morning.

Despite it being a Friday, Dean should have known better. No, he _does_ know better. There was something off about him tonight. There was something different in how he carried himself, and Castiel hasn’t yet been able to put his finger on it. He’ll have to ask about it when he sees Dean tomorrow night during his usual shift coffee run.

Though he expected the others to be disappointed that it’s time for him to go, they do agree that it’s getting late. It does, however, take them another twenty minutes at least to settle their bills and make their rounds to say goodbye before they can actually get outside. Dean is a bit wobbly on his feet as they cross the parking lot and Castiel catches his arm to help keep him upright.

Since Sam is going to be the one driving, Jess takes the front seat. Castiel is more than happy to sit in the back with Dean. Now that they’re no longer at _The Roadhouse_ , Dean’s mood slowly starts to pitch downwards again. He starts out the window with a melancholy sigh every now and then, though Castiel might be the only one who takes note of it. Sam and Jess are caught up in another conversation again, this time debating the pros and cons of cats versus dogs.

Instead of going right back to the café, Sam takes Jess directly to her home. It makes sense, given that she had someone drop her off at the café earlier. Castiel fully expected Dean to press his face against the window and snoop while Sam bids Jess goodnight at her doorstep, but instead he turns to face him. There’s an unexpectedly determined set to Dean’s jaw as he holds out his hand. Rather than use words, he simply flexes his fingers a few times.

Oh no.

After a few moments where Castiel fails to react, Dean sighs and drops his hands to rest on the seat between them. “I wanna hold your hand.”

Oh _no_. Castiel curls his fingers into fists against his thighs. He presses his lips into a thin line.

Again, that isn’t the answer Dean wants and he hiccups slightly. “I wanna hold your _hand_ , Cas.”

“Dean –” He starts and stops, unsure of what to say next. Does Castiel even trust himself to actually refuse him like he’s supposed to.  

“S’just holding hands, Cas.” Dean huffs and keeps flexing his fingers. “ _Kids_ hold hands.”

“We’re not children.”

Eventually, Dean stops moving his fingers. He stares Castiel down for a few moments before sighing and turning to look out the window again. It’s all Castiel can do to keep his heart in his chest. He swallows around the lump in his throat and forces himself to relax as he turns to look out the window too. At least Dean is only trying to hold his hand. He’s not trying to _kiss_ him again, so that’s a much needed positive note right now.

A few minutes after they’re on the road again, with Sam humming happily to himself behind the wheel, Castiel’s heart just about stops. There are gentle fingers slipping across the back of his hand and it’s all he can do not to react to it. He does, however, hold his breath as Dean pulls his hand from this thigh to the center of the back seat. There’s a tremble in his arm as those tender touches guide his hand to turn over. His heart is in his throat and he can’t stop himself from watching as Dean traces the lines of his palm; hiccupping softly every now and then.

Eventually he slides his fingers between Castiel’s, curling their hands together until he can squeeze it tightly. Heat floods Castiel’s face and the source is coming from where their palms are pressed together. His whole hand is tingling violently and he knows – God, but he _knows_ – that he should put a stop to this right now. Granted, he never actually told Dean that he didn’t want to hold his hand, but he thought that was more or less heavily implied. Well, he _does_ want to hold his hand, but he seems to be the only one who knows that he shouldn’t.

It’s one thing to date Dean without really dating him. It’s one thing to let Dean ‘ _buy_ ’ his dinner for him. But it is another thing entirely to hold hands. Something like holding hands is only a gateway to other things they shouldn’t be doing together. Holding hands leads to cuddling while they watch movies together. Cuddling leads to kissing. Kissing leads to – God, no. He doesn’t want to think about that when he has the warm heat of Dean’s hand is all but burning him.

But if he lets this hand holding continue, eventually they’ll reach a point where they won’t be not-dating anymore. They’ll be _actually_ dating, and that’s everything Castiel promised himself he wouldn’t do – _shouldn’t_ do. One of these days he’s going to have to stop letting his desires get the better of him. One of these days he’s going to have to put his foot down. One of these days.

It’s just – maybe today is not that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you noticed that Purgatory-Jar's art isn't in this chapter. Unfortunately, for the time being, we will be posting without her art. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once they can be finished. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

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**_Friday – April 1 st, 2016_ **

Something hard bounces off Castiel’s back, hitting him square between the shoulder blades. He stops folding a red sheet of origami paper that will, eventually, come together to form a rose and turns around to find a burnt bun on the floor. Balthazar is standing just on the other side of the entry into the kitchen and he has another equally burnt bun in his fist, poised and ready to throw it. Upon finding that Castiel is now facing him, he makes a quick ‘ _come here_ ’ gesture and points towards the stairs.

Oh, is it time already? Castiel glances at the clock they have mounted above the door. Sure enough, it is most definitely that time. The hours this shift have gone by quicker than expected. The midmorning rush following the closing of the bars certainly helped speed things along. But he really has no time to waste. It doesn’t take Gabriel long to come down the stairs and if Castiel and Balthazar aren’t in place when he does, they’ll never hear the end of it.

“Oh, what a _lovely_ morning this is!” As if on cue, Gabriel loudly announces his presence before the spiral staircase even creaks with his first step on the metal stairs. He’s much louder than necessary, meaning he _wants_ them to know that he’s coming. “I can’t wait to _go downstairs_ and get started on the desserts I’ll be making today!”

Castiel rolls his eyes and shares a look with Balthazar. He has much the same expression as he brings a party horn to his lips. Oh! The streamers and confetti! Castiel almost forgot about those and he would be a very dead little brother if he doesn’t have them for when Gabriel reaches the bottom of the stairs. He was strictly instructed to use them this morning and Gabriel did go to all the trouble to prepare the confetti – even though it’s for himself anyways. It sits prepared in a paper bag on the employee hutch next to the stairs and Castiel scrambles to get it as feet come into view.

When Gabriel reaches the bottom of the stairs, he is wearing a plastic tiara from the dollar store and the biggest grin on his face. Balthazar blows the party horn while spinning a noise maker that makes an annoying maraca like cracking sound. Castiel winces, but pushes through it as he throws a few handfuls of confetti and mini-streamers into the hair. He makes extra sure that most of it lands on Gabriel, if only in hopes that he’ll find that as annoying as it is to have to do this.

“Happy Birthday!”

The look of surprise on Gabriel’s face is completely and utterly fake, but he does a good job of hiding it. He covers his mouth with one hand and flaps the other at them. “Oh, you guys! You didn’t have to do this for little ol’ _me_.”

Yes, yes they most certainly did have to do it. If they hadn’t, Gabriel would have made the rest of the morning hell for the both of them. Thus why Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to fetch the broom. Not only was he instructed to use the confetti, but now he has to clean it up. On the bright side, at least he didn’t have to stress himself out with hunting down the perfect birthday gift. Gabriel made it very clear to everyone that he didn’t want any presents. Although he also made it very obvious that he is expect to have a party this evening and someone had better make him a big, delicious cake.

Castiel knows that Jess is planning on making the cake for him this afternoon after Gabriel’s shift is over at one o’clock. She has until her own shift finishes at five o’clock to bake the cake and put it together. If she wants to stay later to finish it, she can, and Castiel has even offered to pay her for the overtime because it really wasn’t fair of Gabriel to ask that of anyone. Castiel should have just gone out and purchased a cake at the grocery store like any normal family would do.

The only problem with that plan would have been getting a cake big enough to feed all the people who will be coming to the party tonight. It is essentially going to be a rehash of their Halloween party, but with less decorations and more focus on Gabriel. While he won’t be getting any gifts, Castiel does know that all of their employees have agreed that they’re giving him a birthday card. It’s exactly what Gabriel has done for every birthday that has happened since the café opened in September. He’s even baked them a special birthday cake.

That’s one of the things Castiel loves about the café. Everyone knows each other and they’re a tight knit group. It’s almost like they’re a little family of their own. Castiel is really the only one out of all of them who holds the others at a distance. He wants to keep his relationship with their employees as a professional one, though he feels like he’s still coming around to being friends with all of them.

“Oh, Cassie!” Gabriel calls from the front of the café where he’s pouring himself a coffee. “The decorations turned out perfectly! Thank you!”

“Yes, that’s what happens when you leave me a detailed diagram and bags of decorations to put up.” Castiel dumps his dustpan of dirt and confetti straight into the trash bin before muffling a yawn. “Do you know how many customers asked if it was the café’s birthday?”

“Did you tell them about the party tonight?”

“Of course I did.”

And it was more than just a little bit annoying, but that was no fault of the customers. Castiel has been cranky for hours now. He’s tired beyond reason and more than ready for _the sleep_. It’s been a three long days after an even longer week. And, if anything, things with Dean have been mentally taxing him since the evening at _The Roadhouse_. He’s done his best to hide how much it weighs on his mind, but he is almost _constantly_ fighting the craving to hold Dean’s hand. That night gave him a taste of an affection he’s not accustomed to and, if he concentrates, he can still feel how his skin tingled.

As far as he can tell, Dean doesn’t remember much of what happened that night. He had a _massive_ hangover the next day, wincing when he came in to get coffee on his way to work. Dean gave a general apology for anything embarrassing that he might have done, but he couldn’t remember specifics. Castiel had quizzed him, and he vaguely remembered dancing, but all he could really recall was everything _before_ he drank quite a bit at the bar while talking with Ash.

Gabriel stops in front of him as he heads back into the kitchen. He regards Castiel over the lid of his coffee cup, eyebrows raised. “You’re looking a little grumpy there, little bro. You sure you’re okay about working the party tonight?”

“I’ll be fine.” Castiel muffles another yawn behind his hand and returns to his stool at the cash register. “And working the party is just about the only way you’ll get me to attend it.”

“Aw, c’mon!” He whines and leans a hip against the counter. “You’ve gone to all those parties with Dean. This is my _birthday_.” After a moment’s pause, he sighs. “Oh, that’s right. He’s not going to be there, is he? And you need your _boy_ –”

He cuts off with an annoyed huff as Castiel reaches over and taps the bottom of his coffee cup. It’s not a hard tap, but it’s enough to make coffee splash through the little opening in the lid. Castiel gives him a warning over his shoulder before returning to folding his rose. He is fully capable of attending the party without Dean, though he won’t admit out loud that his presence does make things more enjoyable, as has been proven on many an occasion.

In any case, Dean may not be able to attend the party tonight, but he did say that he was going to try and stop by during the party for a slice of cake. If he can’t make it during the party, then he’ll be coming to the café for his usual late night coffee run. Castiel has already made the mental note to save him a slice of cake, just in case he doesn’t make it. He knows how much Dean would appreciate that.

Castiel muffles a yawn as he finishes off the last of the folds of the rose. He sets it aside and considers making another. By this time of the night he’s folded a handful of them and he’s not exactly sure what he’s going to do with them. Perhaps he can start attaching them to the boxes they use for pastries? That would add a nice flair to the plain white boxes that they use. With that decided, he grabs another sheet of paper and starts folding.

Another yawn cracks his jaw and Gabriel touches his arm gently. “Hey. You sleepy?”

“Very.” Castiel rolls his shoulders with a sigh. “You’re going to need to come up with me at the end of my shift.” He gives him a pointed look.

“ _Oh_.” Understanding fills Gabriel’s eyes and he taps the side of his nose. “I got’cha.” He winks and heads back into the kitchen without another word.

Castiel pushes his glasses up to rub at his eyes, already starting to count down the hours until the end of his shift. Other from dealing with customers, he doesn’t really have anything else to do between now and then aside from counting down his till. Thank God, because Castiel really can’t handle anything more than that. He is _exhausted_ and wants nothing more than to go take _the sleep_ as soon as he is physically able to.

At least the weather is finally nice enough to take _the sleep_ outside now. It’s not warm enough for his all his plants to move back to the roof or for him to start planting the annuals. He’s looking forward to being able to spread his wings in the open air again. They’ve never experienced flight before, but there’s something about the wind rustling his feathers that speaks to a primal part of him – and is perhaps the reason that he prefers taking _the sleep_ outside. Or that could just be that he’s lazy and doesn’t want to have to clean up every time he takes _the sleep_ inside.

Before he can go up to the roof after his shift, he’s going to have to make sure that Gabriel renews the spells on the roof. Those are a necessity for taking _the sleep_ up there. Gabriel got the idea after reading Harry Potter. The spells keep anyone from being able to look directly at the roof. Their eyes can’t focus on it and the spell keeps them from really thinking about it. Castiel doesn’t know what intricate spells go into putting it all together, but he’s happy that Gabriel managed to work out how to do it.

It’s more than forty-five minutes before the end of his shift when Gabriel comes out of the kitchen to put Balthazar’s bagged loaves in the baskets behind the counter where they sell them. Castiel has handled a handful of customers by that point, and he’s been refilling Chuck’s coffee mug every twenty minutes for the last hour. He’s even folded enough roses to fill a box with them. It really did pass the time, but it also lulled him into something that felt like a half-awake trance.

“Hey, Cassie.” Gabriel slings an arm around his shoulder and turns him on the stool. “My phone is saying the sun is coming up early today. The half past six kind of early. You’re going to have to go upstairs now if you want to be on the roof for it.”

“You don’t need to talk me into it.” Castiel stands up with a stretch and a loud yawn. “Is Balthazar alright with covering the café a half hour earlier than usual?”

Gabriel shrugs and starts leading him to the stairs. “He doesn’t get a say in it. The sun kinda dictates our schedule when you’re having one of your big sleeps, y’know?”

That’s not really something Castiel can argue, if only because he’s too _exhausted_ for anything else. He barely has the energy to give Nike the attention she deserves as he goes to his bedroom to change clothes. Gabriel heads straight for the roof to renew the spells while Castiel has to dig his outfit for _the sleep_ out from the top of his closet. It’s hardly more than a sheet that he keeps pinned around his waist and throws over his shoulder.

Nike waits patiently on his bed while he changes and he hates that she’s going to be very disappointed to spend the day alone. Gabriel won’t be able to come keep her company until the afternoon, and she can’t be out in the café without one of them to keep an eye on her. Gabriel will be in the kitchen until his shift is done and she’s not allowed in there. Though it looks like he might end up cutting that short, considering how strained he looks when he comes down from the roof.

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel leans against the doorframe. “You ready?” He rubs his temples. “I’m going to need more coffee after I release your wings.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much those spells affect you without my help.” In hindsight, Castiel really should have gone up with him. Though, if he had done that, he would have had to take _the sleep_ in his normal clothes and that’s not something he likes doing when he’s taking it on the roof. “Are you sure you’ll be okay to work after releasing my wings?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Gabriel flaps a hand at him while taking a switchblade out of his pocket. “Just get your damn shirt off so I can get started.”

Castiel pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He rolls his shoulders and curves them forward. It’s as much an invitation as any and Gabriel crosses the room to him. With a quick swipe of the blade, he cuts his thumb and uses the blood to draw the symbols on his back. In no time at all, Castiel’s wings are rising from the tattoos on his skin and he stretches them with a drawn out moan. It feels _so good_ to have them out and sometimes he wishes that he could have them out all the time. But they’re one of his most defining features and it’s best they stay hidden when he’s in public.

With the sheet tied firmly around his waist, he throws the excess end over his shoulder and turns around to find Gabriel sucking at his thumb. “Stop that. You need to go sanitize your thumb and slap a Band-Aid on it.” Something rubs against his ankle and he looks down to find Nike staring up at him. “And could you please feed her? I won’t have the time before the sun rises.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and makes a shooing motion. “You’d better hurry. The horizon was getting pretty bright.” He pauses and brings his thumb to his lips again. “You sure you wanna sleep out there, though? It’s a little nipply out.”

“I like sleeping outside more.” Castiel shrugs and folds his wings to his back. “It’s more refreshing when I wake up in the evening.” Besides that, it doesn’t really matter to him whether it’s cold or not. He won’t be able to feel it while he’s sleeping. It’s the chilly blast when he wakes up that keeps him from taking _the sleep_ outside during the winter.

Gabriel shuffles off to the kitchen to get Nike some food as Castiel takes the stairs up to the roof. It really is colder than he thought and he shivers at the wind as it rustles through his feathers. For a moment, he seriously considers heading back downstairs to take _the sleep_ in his bedroom. But if he did that, it would mean that he has to set up the plastic sheeting to catch the mess and he is just far _too tired_ to do that.

Castiel hisses in surprise as he takes a seat on the pedestal in the middle of the rooftop. The stone is like ice and his sheet does _nothing_ to protect him from it. Even the metal of the simple pergola mounted around his pedestal is cold. He can feel the chill as his feathers brush it. If it was summer time, he’d be taking _the sleep_ surrounded by flowers and the creeping vines that crawl all over the pergola within the first few weeks that he plants them. The vines don’t really have much of a scent, but the flowers that bloom on them are so nice to take _the sleep_ to.

His wings knock the pergola a few times as he stretches them in the process of turning to face the sunrise. He waits and watches the horizon grow brighter over the rooftops. It’s been a while since he’s been able to watch it happen like this and that same old resigned feeling settles tight in his chest. One day, he would like to be able to just sit and watch a sunrise all the way through. He’s never seen the sun outside of videos and pictures, and it’s just not the same.

If it wasn’t for this one thing – if it wasn’t for _what_ he is – then maybe he might still have his parents. If he was some other Creature – if he was _Human_ – then maybe he wouldn’t have any problems with telling Dean about his feelings for him. They could be _together_ without Castiel worrying about his safety. They could be together and he wouldn’t feel so horrible for how things are going between them. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading Dean on no matter how hard he tries not to.

It’s something that they both really need to work on, though neither one seems to be making any strides in drawing back from one another. The mere _thought_ of trying to spend _less_ time with Dean ruffles his feathers the wrong way. He hates how his whole body feels like it’s rejecting that idea, tensing and making his stomach turn.

On the bright side, he won’t be kept awake by these thoughts. The moment the sun breaks the horizon, _the sleep_ will take him and he won’t feel anything until he wakes again this evening. With a sigh, he adjusts the part of the sheet that is thrown over his shoulder before spreading his wings; fluffing the feathers slightly. He always takes a pose when he sleeps out here, just in case someone ends up coming to the roof when they’re not supposed to.

This morning he goes for something simple and adopts the ever popular _The Thinker_ pose. Normally he would watch the horizon to try and get a peek of the sun, but his thoughts have soured his mood. He closes his eyes and slowly exhales, waiting for _the sleep_ to take him. The last of his breath never leaves his lips as the sun takes its toll, turning his body – from the tips of his hair to the points of his feathers – to solid stone.

_ _

The paperwork under Dean’s hand blurs slightly as he fills it out; his pen swaying over the check boxes and form fields. They had a call this morning a few hours after the shift change and he’s been slowly filling out the papers for it ever since they got back. It was nothing more than a false alarm, which means the report for it is just about the most boring thing he could be doing right now. He hates exercising and he’d rather be working out right now than filling this out.

There are only so many ways he can say that someone burned their food in their apartment and then made the mistake of opening the hallway door while airing their place out. It set off the building alarm, which automatically notifies the station for a rollout. Honestly, those are one of the better kind of calls. He’d take a false alarm over an inferno any day of the week because that means no one gets hurt, but it’s still fucking _boring_.

Dean checks the clock again, just because he can. His afternoon nap time is too far off for his liking. Three hours feels like an eternity to him and he is _so_ ready to sleep. If he got away from this paperwork, he would probably perk up a bit. Maybe he should get himself a cup of sludge that passes for coffee here. That would probably help a little bit.

He’s contemplating that possibility when the buzzer from downstairs goes off. It nearly gives him a heart attack and he jumps slightly in his seat. Bobby snorts from the other side of his newspaper; his eyes on Dean over its edge. The buzzer is connected to the phone that allows them to call downstairs to the reception desk where Becky works. She’s basically Mom’s office bitch and fields all the phone calls or anyone who comes into the public part of the station.

Since Charlie is the closest to the phone, she picks it up without once taking her eyes off the cup ramen she has in the microwave. “What’s up?” After a pause, she sighs and turns off the microwave. “Okay, I’ll be right down.”

“Turn that back on.” Bobby flaps his newspaper at her. “I’ll take care of it until you’re back upstairs.”

“Thanks, bossman.” Charlie hits start again and then gestures for Dean to get up. “Come with me. We’ve got a concerned citizen downstairs wanting to make a report.” She holds up a finger when he opens his mouth. “Before you ask why you should come too, let’s just say the report is about a place down the street and close to your heart.”

Anything having to do with Cas’s café concerns him, no matter how big or small. Dean is out of his chair and following Charlie to the stairs without a word. There’s no point in asking her what she knows, because it’s probably nothing. Either way, he’ll find out in a few moments anyways. Knowing Charlie, even if she _did_ know, she would make him wait until he could hear everything from the so-called concerned citizen.

In this case, said citizen is an older woman with one of those grey perms that all older ladies seem to wear. She’s shuffling back and forth in front of Becky’s desk while wringing a pair of gloves between her hands. Dean has to hand it to her, because she definitely looks the very picture of _concerned_.

The two of them put on their professional faces as they approach her. Charlie smiles and holds out her hand. “Hello ma’am. I’m Charlie and this is Dean. How can we help you?”

“I was just at the café down the street for my afternoon tea and biscuit.” Missus Concerned Citizen picks up a _Trick or Treat_ to-go coffee cup from where she left it on Becky’s desk. She points at it to emphasize her point. “I’m very worried about a heavy gasoline kind of smell that was inside. It was so strong that I wasn’t able to stay and enjoy my tea and biscuit like I normally would.”

Now that _does_ cause Dean to worry too. If the café smells like gasoline, then there’s a high chance that the apartment does too. That’s where Cas sleeps and he might not notice the smell while he’s sleeping. That’s how people _die_ and it makes his lungs feel like they’re twisting around his heart, making it hard to breathe and causing his whole chest to ache.

While he’s resisting the urge to get his cell phone out of his pocket to call Cas and wake him up, Charlie is keeping up with being the professional that she is. “Thank you for the tip, ma’am. We’ll look into it right away. If you would like to follow up on this, you can leave your information with Becky here and she’ll call you back after our investigation is complete.”

“Thank you.” She breathes a sigh of relief and shakes both their hands before turning to Becky.

Dean is already halfway up the stairs before she starts talking again. He’s got his phone to his ear and he’s not at all pleased to find that his call keeps ringing out to voicemail. Charlie tells Nick and Meg what’s going on while Dean keeps trying to make the call. Either Cas is a heavy sleeper, or his phone is on silent, or it’s in another room, or he’s passed because of too much carbon monoxide and could possibly be _dying_ right now.

“Alright, kiddos.” Bobby waves his hand in a circle as he comes out of Mom’s office. “Round up your gear. Nick and Meg, I want you two to cover the station. I’m goin’ with Charlie and Dean to check on the call that just came in. Get your CO gear. We’re goin’ for a walk.”

Mom is the one who gets the actually 911 calls and that just makes Dean’s stomach add its name to the growing list of organs that are very unhappy with him right now. “Is it for _Trick or Treat_?”

“Yup.” Bobby gives Dean a grim look; the kind that means he knows exactly just how worried he’s starting to get. “Employee called in because customers are complaining of a gasoline type smell. Get your suits, hoods, and the detectors.”

It’s not right that Dean, as a fully trained and professional _firefighter_ with a dual-training as an emergency medical technician, is shaking as he pulls his coat on and grabs the gear he needs. His hands are trembling inside of his gloves as they head out for the short walk down the street. There’s no point in taking one of the trucks for a carbon monoxide call, but they can always radio back to the station if they need one and it will be there in seconds.

While Nick and Meg might not be enough to cover if another call comes in, there are various volunteer firefighters both on call and actually working in the station. Dean’s parents are two shining examples of those available. Maybe if they were doing this call instead of him, they would have remembered that Cas can’t go out in the sun and they would have insisted on bringing the truck with them if only because of the black-out box they have loaded with it.

Because there are Vampires and various other Creatures who live within their jurisdiction that can’t go out in sunlight, it’s law that all emergency responder vehicles have to have a black-out box. It’s basically a crazy thick fireproof cloth tunnel that they set up by the door of a building to shield anyone who needs to get from Point A to Point B without being in the sun. Point B is a pop up tent with a hard bottom on wheels that blows up a little like the rafts they have on airplanes. It has zero windows and is made of the same kind of blackout cloth. It attaches to the tunnel and can be moved a safe distance from the building once everyone who needs it is inside.

They’re basically at the café when Dean remembers that and he taps Bobby on the shoulder. “Cas can’t go out in the sun. We can’t evacuate him without the –”

“Oi, Dean-o!” Gabriel interrupts and announces his presence with a loud voice and a slap to Dean’s shoulder that he hardly feels in the slightest. “Don’t worry about Cassie. He’s not here right now.” He gestures over his shoulder to where Tessa and Jess are standing in their coats under the window where _The Graveyard Shift_ sign would be lit. “It’s just the three of us here today. All the customers took off with the free coffee I gave ‘em for the trouble.” After a pause he holds up the cat carrier in his other hand where Nike is meowing loudly. “Okay, three and a half.”

Now that just doesn’t sound right. Cas isn’t here? Why the hell isn’t Cas here? Dean opens his mouth to talk, but Bobby talks over him. “What can you tell us about the situation? When did people start noticing the smell and how strong is it?”

“If we’re being upfront about things, then I’m pretty sure that this is just a false alarm.” Gabriel shrugs and gestures for Jess to come over and take the cat carrier from him. “I didn’t notice it right away because I had just pulled brownies out of the oven when Tessa told me that people were complaining and leaving because of it. But I could smell it when I left the kitchen and went to the front.”

Charlie pulls on her oxygen hood and taps the carbon monoxide detector attached to the strap of her oxygen tank harness. “I call dibs on inspecting the kitchen. If you’re missing a few brownies, it’s completely unrelated to me.”

Bobby rolls his eyes and gives her a shove towards the door. “I’ll check the café. Dean, you get the upstairs.” He gives him a pointed look as he pulls his hood on too. “And that’s because it’s a private dwelling that you’re actually familiar with.”

Yeah, that makes sense and it’s probably something Dean would have insisted for anyways. He turns to Gabriel again. “It’s unlocked, right?”

“I don’t even think that I shut the door after I shoved Nike in a carrier.” Gabriel sighs and holds up a hand with a few scratches on it, none of which are bleeding. “She goes in so nicely for Cassie, but when I have to do it she gets all uppity with me.”

That makes sense too. Cas is definitely Nike’s favourite person in the whole damn world. “And you’re sure Cas isn’t home? I can still radio the station and get them to bring the blackout tent.”

“Nah, he said he had something to do and took the car this morning.” Gabriel shrugs and shakes his head. “He said he was going to spend the day at a motel and he’ll be back for my party this evening.”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Dean pulls his hood on and reaches over to smack Gabriel on the shoulder. “Turning the big four-oh? Or is it five-oh?”

Gabriel narrows his eyes in a dangerous glare that very nearly makes Dean take a step back. “I’m turning thirty-three, you asshole. Now go in there and find out what stinks before they end up dragging the river for your body.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Dean heads for the door with a laugh and waves over his shoulder. “Happy Birthday, by the way!”

Before he can be chased down and get his ass magicked halfway to China, Dean ducks into the café and beelines for the stairs in the kitchen. Bobby is slowly making his way around behind the counter; checking the sensor on his strap often. So far it’s not reacting, so that’s a plus. Charlie seems to be having the same kind of luck, though she’s spending way too much time near those brownies for them to be any kind of safe. She glances at him and Dean shrugs before heading up the stairs.

It’s really fucking weird to him that Cas isn’t here. If there are any constants in Dean’s life, it’s that during the day Cas will be at home. He is _never_ not at home. There’s not a chance in Hell that Cas would have gone out for the day without telling Dean that he was going out of town or that he was going to spend the day at a motel. Where the hell could he have gone that would require something like that? And for _what_?

That just sounds way too un-Cas like and it’s putting Dean’s teeth on edge. He’s his best friend and he refuses to believe that Cas wouldn’t have mentioned going out when they were texting last night before he went to bed. Things had better be okay with Cas, otherwise Dean is going to have _many_ questions for him when they see each other later tonight. But, for now, he’s going to have to put a hold on those questions and get to his actual job.

The first place to take the sensor near are heat registers and appliances. Dean takes his time wandering around the apartment, letting the detector work do its job. He maybe spends a little longer than necessary hanging out by the fridge to check out the pictures that Cas and Gabe have stuck to it. In all the times that he’s been here, he’s never really stopped to look at them. Mostly because he’s spending all his time in the living room and Cas is always plays the perfect host; getting everything from the kitchen for him on his own.

Possibly his favourite picture is the one of Cas and Gabriel in Disney World. It’s well after sunset, but the two of them are taking a selfie in front of the castle. For some reason, Cas isn’t smiling, but that’s how he was when Dean first met him. He smiles way more now and Dean is pretty happy for it. Cas has a fucking awesome smile.

Next to that picture is one of Cas wearing a too big sweater and sitting in a dark window while reading a book. It’s not a window that Dean recognizes, so he figures it’s probably from their apartment from when they were living in Florida. Which is also the suspected location of the picture underneath that one. That picture is of a much younger Cas and Gabriel. The two of them look like they’re both in their teens. Cas isn’t smiling it that one either, and Gabriel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re standing in front of an apartment building that has palm trees on the lawn.

Dean would bet the contents of his entire savings account that the apartment picture was taken on their first day in Florida right after they moved because of their parents’ deaths. It’s maybe not the happiest out of all the pictures on the fridge, but Dean likes it if only for the chance of seeing a teenage Cas. At least the picture next to it is much happier with the two of them standing in front of the café. They both look so proud and happy as they stand under their respective signs, both of which are lit. Dean’s never seen them both on before, but it’s cool as hell anyways.

The detector doesn’t pick up anything in the kitchen and Dean heads off to check the rest of the apartment. Aside from an uncovered kitty poop in the litter box, there’s nothing stinky that he can find with the detector. He’s pretty relieved – though still _really_ confused – to find that Cas’s whole bedroom is actually empty. There’s absolutely nothing going on up here and he had better head downstairs to give his report to Bobby or help out if they need it.

Unlike Gabriel, Dean actually closes the door to the apartment when he leaves. He takes one step down before pausing and turning around. The spiral staircase has a little landing here before it continues on up to the roof. Dean knows that Cas has a rooftop garden up there and that he’s already starting to shop around for seeds to plant when the weather gets warm enough. It’s really cute and he kinda loves what a plant nerd Cas is. So much so that he’s even considering putting in flower gardens at the house just so he can get Cas to help out with it.

Since the roof is kind of Cas’s special private place, Dean’s never actually been up there. Would it be a total invasion of privacy if he went up there now? If they have a rooftop unit for their air conditioner or any other kind of venting up there, it’s possible that the smell might be coming from there and going through the vents in some way. It would be neglect of his professional duty if he didn’t check it out. He can always apologize to Cas for it later.

As he goes up the stairs, Dean figures that Cas probably would have let him go up here during the spring. It never really occurred to him to ask to come up here before winter hit and it really was too cold to do it after that. He hasn’t heard a whole lot about the rooftop garden, but he’s excited to see it. And he’s maybe a little disappointed when he exits out onto the roof. Granted, that’s because there’s zero plant life up top and the whole place is mostly bare.

There’s lattice lining most of the edges of the rooftop. Dean can imagine what they’d look like with plants climbing up them during the year. The tops of the lattices are woven through with twinkle lights that basically ring the entire rooftop. Since it’s the middle of the day, they’re obviously not on, but they must look amazing when they’re on at night. And the empty garden troughs put pretty much everywhere would look great full of flowers and whatever other plants Cas puts out here. Sadly, bringing the plants out is still a ways off. Most of the snow in town might be gone by now, but it’s still way too cold for them right now.

Dean is so busy checking everything out and looking for a rooftop unit that he almost completely overlooks the goddamn _statue_ in the center of the empty rooftop garden. He stops dead in his tracks and breaks the golden rule by taking off his oxygen hood. Holy fucking _shit_. What in the world is he looking at right now? Because that – that’s a stone Cas. That is one hundred percent a statue of Cas sitting on a pedestal under an fancy looking four post metal frame.

Is this real life? Why is there a _statue_ of Cas on the roof? Everything about it looks exactly like Cas except for the wings. Oh, shit. Now Dean has a perfect mental image of what he would look like with wings and it is just as excellent as he had imagined it would be. It does help matters that the stone Cas is half naked and wearing some kind of sweeping toga thing. Yeah, that definitely helps _a lot_ – though it doesn’t lessen his wonder any.

Seriously, why in the hell is there a half-naked winged statue of Cas on the roof? Dean’s never seen Cas in any sense of the word _undressed_ , but he’s pretty damn sure that Cas does _not_ have wings. That would definitely be something he would have noticed. Yes, Charlie has called him blind and unobservant on more than one occasion, but that’s mostly when he missed something crucial during a video game. This is worlds different from that.

He circles the statue a few times to get a good look at it from all angles. The good news is that the statue isn’t setting off his carbon monoxide detector, and from a general glance around the rooftop it also looks like they don’t have an AC unit up here. That said, Dean has nothing short of a billion questions about the statue and he is _definitely_ going to have a talk with Cas about this later on. The detail on this thing is just insane, though it doesn’t look like it’s made out of anything that he’s used to seeing statues made out of it.

From what Dean can tell, the statue looks like it’s been carved out of solid rock – hard, gray, and kinda porous looking. He might not be the best authority on statues, but he’s pretty sure that’s not marble or any of the other common carving stone types used in statue making. It also doesn’t seem as smooth and consistent as if someone had made a mold and poured cement into it. If he had to compare it to anything, it would be like someone took a chunk off Mount Rushmore and carved it to look like Cas.

This is – _by far_ – the most interesting thing that has happened in weeks and Dean can’t wait to ask about it tonight. If he didn’t have a job to do, he’d hang out up here a little longer and inspect it a little more. Unfortunately, he’s got a grumpy boss waiting for him downstairs. He puts his oxygen hood on again and heads for the door, only pausing to take one last look at the statue before he heads back downstairs.

Bobby and Charlie are both done with checking the kitchen and the front of the café. Dean finds them standing together at the double doors that open out into the parking lot at the very back of the kitchen. When he joins them, they’re checking out the reading on their meters. His beeps slightly as he joins them. It’s just a weak little warning beep, which means it’s nothing more than fumes. With the door open, that means they’re going to be dissipating too. Case in point; both Bobby and Charlie aren’t wearing their oxygen hoods too.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Bobby looks up and motions for him to leave right away. “Since you already know him, go and get the owner. We’ve got a few questions for him.”

“Yes sir.” Dean offers a mock salute before heading off.

Gabriel is pacing back and forth in front of the store. He’s more than happy to follow Dean through the café and back to Bobby and Charlie. He takes a few sniffs of the air and immediately makes a face. “Well, damn. It’s been like half an hour at least since the customers started complaining and it still smells in here? That’s pretty bad.”

“Whatever it was, it was concentrated right here. We got a beep or two in the front, but that was only upon entry and not since then.” Bobby shrugs and hooks his detector back in place on his rig. “But was there anything back here that could have been giving that smell?”

It takes a few moments of thinking before Gabriel gets that little ah-hah moment, like a little light bulb went off in his head. “There was a delivery truck! I was wrapping up decorating some strawberry tarts before taking care of the brownies, so I had Jess handle the delivery of the bulk supplies that I order in. Let me go get her.”

When he brings her back to join them, Tessa tags along with Nike’s carrier in her arms. After the situation is explained, Jess turns a lovely shade of red. “Oh my God.” She sounds pretty nasally and congested. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been stuffed up all week and I couldn’t smell anything while I was back here.” After a moment she holds up both hands. “Don’t worry about me working in the kitchen, though! I wear a mask and gloves while I’m working and I’m over the worst of it!”

“Didn’t even occur to me until you said that.” Dean shakes his head because knowing that the baker was sick isn’t going to stop him from eating basically everything this café has to offer. “But did you notice anything about the truck or what was going on?”

“Not really.” Jess frowns and looks at the floor while she thinks. “Oh, wait. The delivery driver was a new kid, though.” After another pause, her eyes go wide and she turns to Gabriel. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it at the time but he had the truck running while he was here. Normally they turn it off when they unload, but I didn’t even think that the smell of the exhaust would get into the café.”

Gabriel sighs and slaps his palm to his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, Jess. It happens.” He turns to Bobby with a hopeful shrug. “Is that an acceptable reasoning, or…?”

Bobby shakes his head and gestures for Charlie and Dean to start walking. “We’ve found nothing else indicating otherwise. Y’can just air out the place a bit. Keep an eye out for anyone who might get a headache. If they do, let us know and we’ll come do another check.”

“And you should probably get some carbon monoxide detectors for the café.” Charlie adds and gestures at the ceiling where they have smoke detectors but they’re not multi-detectors. “I didn’t notice any and you really should get one.”

“I thought I did buy those.” Gabriel scratches the back of his head like he’s embarrassed, but he does look thoroughly disappointed with himself. “I’ll put an order in for them right away and have them up before the end of the day. Cross my heart.”

Honestly, Dean doesn’t even know how they managed to pass the inspections. Unless they don’t own the building. If they’re just renting, then the landlords could have just slipped up on that. Either way, it makes him wonder what else might have been looked over in the original inspections. He’s going to have to talk to Cas about that too and get the low down on everything.

“Thanks for helping out, guys.” Gabriel follows them back through the kitchen to the front of the café. He pauses at the cash register to pull a few pieces of paper out that are about the size of Monopoly money. “Here. These are for your troubles.”

The three of them all end up with a fistful of _Free Coffee_ coupons. Technically speaking, they’re not allowed to accept gifts for just doing their job, but free coffee isn’t like getting a big basket of expensive wines or cheeses. It’s enough for Bobby to shrug it off and keep going. He leaves Charlie and Dean to be the ones to thank him and actually say ‘goodbye’ to everyone. By some miracle, Dean manages to get out of the café without saying a word about the statue of Cas on the roof. That’s just something he needs to save until he sees him later tonight.

*

Oh dear God in Heaven why in the world did Dean think it was a good idea to go early enough to make the party? The Halloween party was an entirely different thing when he was attending it as a party goer and he was allowed to drink. Last time he didn’t walk into the party in a station t-shirt with his fire suit pants being held up by _suspenders_. Normally Dean doesn’t mind them, but he can already picture exactly how Gabriel is going to mock him for it. Well, he can just consider that a bonus birthday present on top of the card that Dean has in his pocket.

The café is just as packed as it was at the Halloween party and Dean has to work his way around the edges to even make it to the counter. All the chairs have been moved up against the wall, but the tables are nowhere to be found and he doesn’t have the first clue where they might have been moved. Everyone is more or less just kinda hanging about drinking, laughing, and eating cake. Some people are even kinda dancing to the music being piped through the whole place.

Since the cake has already been cut, it seems that Dean missed the birthday wishes. Well, since this _is_ Gabriel’s party, then he should probably seek out the birthday boy first before finding Cas. Even if he’d much rather find Cas and leave the card he has for Gabriel with him. He was the one who told Dean to bring one anyways, even if he was going to do that anyways. Gabriel was nice enough to sign _his_ birthday card back in January, and he even gave him that punch card for ten free coffees. So, here he is, just returning the kind wishes or whatever.

It takes a little searching to actually find Gabriel in all the party people. He’s right in the middle of the dancers and Dean quickly discovers that he’s also a little bit drunk. That becomes very apparent the moment Gabriel spots him and actually pulls him into a _hug_. Of all the people in the world Dean thought he would get hugs from, Gabriel was never one of them. Which is surprising, because Dean is an excellent hugger and just about everyone should want to hug him.

“Alright, birthday boy, you already saw me today.” Dean slaps him on the back and does his best to extract himself from the hug. “Here. Have a card.”

“Aw, y’didn’t _have_ to, Bean.” Gabriel sways a little where he’s standing while he opens the card. He hiccups slightly as he reads the glittery cupcake of a card he got. “This is so nice. _Thank you_.”

The moment he sways in for another hug, Dean steps back and pats him on the shoulder a few times. Whether or not he’s an amazing hugger, he’s not really all the comfortable hugging Gabriel. It’s just weird because he’s Cas’s brother and Cas is the one that he wants to be hugging pretty much constantly at all times. Which makes this even more weird so, yeah. It’s time to ignore the fact that Gabriel just called him _Bean_ and move on to getting the coffees. He is, after all, still on the clock and Bobby didn’t give him _that_ long to hang around here.

There’s a line at the counter that cuts through the crowd almost all the way to the door. Dean can’t tell if they’re lining up for drinks or cake, but he wants both so he might as well wait his turn. As long as he ends up talking to Cas in the end, it’ll be worth it. The sad thing is that standing in line is cutting into the amount of time that he has to hang out at the café and talk with Cas for a bit. And there is _a lot_ that they have to talk about. Though, on the bright side, he can see that Gabriel kept true on his word and they already have carbon monoxide detectors up, so that’s a plus.

“Hey, Dean!” A shout to his left catches his attention and he turns to find Anna waving at him from behind the counter. She waves him over to the far end of the counter by the big windows and lifts the divider that extends the counter while also blocking customers from getting behind it. “I’ve got orders from the boss to let you back here if I saw you.” Her wings flutter excitedly as she turns and points down the length of the counter. “He even set aside a stool for you in the back corner there. Go ahead. He’ll be with you in a second.”

“Thanks.” Dean flashes her a grin and a double thumbs up before heading for the stool.

Cas is, as expected, standing at the cash register. The coffee orders are few and far between, but he’s focused on making them and handing out free slices of cake. Anna joins him and Dean realizes that the line is actually moving quite quickly. It really wouldn’t have mattered in the long run if he’d waited like everyone else instead of being allowed back here. Not that he’s complaining, of course. From his place in the corner, Dean has an _excellent_ view of Cas’s ass in those jeans and he is totally _not_ looking at it.

There’s at least an hour before Cas’s shift is actually supposed to start. If it’s busy enough for him to already be working, then Dean really probably shouldn’t be sitting back here. He’ll just be a distraction to Cas and that’s no good. Especially since there are more customers here than Cas is probably used to dealing with at any given time – aside from the Halloween party, that is.

“How many coffees are you getting tonight?” Cas pops the question as he walks by to get a new stack of paper plates for the cake slices.

“Wow, not even a ‘ _hey, how are you doing_?’ That’s cold.” Dean lays a hand over his heart and rocks back on the stool. “I’m _wounded_ here.”

Cas rolls his eyes on his way back to the counter. “I’m sorry, but just in case you haven’t noticed it’s a little busy.” He passes the plates off to Anna and she starts cutting more slices from what has got to be the _biggest_ slab cake that Dena has ever seen. “I’m also working an extra-long shift tonight so that Anna doesn’t get overwhelmed by all the customers.”

“I figure that’s an even trade-off for leaving your shift earlier than usual this morning, don’t you think?” It’s a loaded question and Dean watches Cas’s back closely for any kind of reaction. And, maybe, he’s just looking for a sign of wings.

Of course there’s no hint of wings, but Cas definitely goes still for a moment. A second later and he’s throwing Dean a frustrated but tight smile. “It’s the price I pay for leaving my brother’s birthday gift until the last minute.”

Now that is just complete and utter bullshit. Dean knows Cas. He knows that he would have ordered a gift for Gabriel _weeks_ ago. There’s no possible way he wouldn’t have a gift ready and waiting – just like he did for his Christmas shopping. A guy doesn’t talk to another guy several times a day almost every day without learning a few of his habits. Dean has some _major_ suspicions going on and Cas isn’t helping things at all. The Novak brothers are hiding something and he can’t shake the feeling that it’s tied to the statue on the roof – and he hasn’t even gotten to asking about that yet.

This is neither the time nor the place to call Cas out of that, so Dean forces a laugh and shakes his head. “Time management is a _bitch_ if you don’t stay on top of it. Oh–” Anna turns to hand him a plate with a fork sticking out of a slice of cake. “Thanks! You rock.”

She flashes a little smile at him before she flaps her hands at Cas. “I can hand out cake on my own. You should go and take care of the coffee for the big buff firefighter. He needs to get back to work.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dean groans before tucking into a vanilla and chocolate layered cake with what looks like a cookie crumble layer in between. “I’ve got a long night ahead of me since I opted to come get the coffees now instead of later.”

Cas steps away from the counter and wipes his hands on the apron he has hanging around his waist. “And why couldn’t you have come later like you usually do?”

“And miss all this?” He gestures with his fork at the party, but mostly at the cake because holy shit it is _delicious_ and he’s going to have to give his compliments to the baker. “ _Never_.”

“I’m insulted that you don’t think I would have saved you a slice.” Cas gives him a flat look that is completely and utterly ruined by the smile creeping in the corner of his mouth.

Dean covers his mouth with a gasp. “Aw. That’s _so_ sweet! You’re making me melt over here.”

Cas shakes his head and rolls his eyes all in the same motion as he ducks around Anna to get one of the boxes out from the counter that they use for baked goods. “How many coffees are you getting and how many are working the shift tonight?”

Well, since Charlie and Meg are currently napping, that means he only needs coffees for Nick, Bobby, and him. But if he didn’t get something to drink for Charlie, she would be totally pissed. They can warm up any drink once she’s awake. Meg specifically said she didn’t want anything because any caffeine had after she wakes up will only keep her up at the end of her shift when she just wants to go home and crash – exactly like everyone else.

“Four coffees but there are five on shift.” Dean shrugs and stuffs a huge forkful of cake into his mouth. He hums around it and watches as Cas puts five whole slices of cake. They’re not _huge_ slices, but they look absolutely awesome and that’s too many slices. “Wait, Cas, I meant four plus me.”

That makes Cas pause and he looks down at the box. He uses the cake server to count how many he put in the box. Eventually he just closes the box and shrugs. “And who are the coffees for?”

Sweet! Bonus cake slice! Dean grins and polishes off the last of his current  slice, even going so far as to lick the fork clean because it really is an amazing cake. “They’ll be for Bobby, Charlie, Nick, and me.”

“Thank you.” Cas swaps the plate for the box of cake slices. He starts punching the drink order into the cash register, forever impressing Dean with his ability to just remember everyone’s favourite orders. “I’m discounting your drinks tonight down to nothing as a thank you for taking care of things this afternoon. We really appreciate that you noted the holes in our accident prevention.” As if it punctuates his statement, Cas hits a button that makes the cash drawer pop out and he uses his hip to shut it.

“Oh, I guess Gabriel filled you in on everything, huh?”

Cas sighs loudly and crosses to the coffee machines. “He did and I’m a little embarrassed that our once a month deliveries were the cause of it. Gabriel has already angrily lectured the company about running an exhaust right into the doors of a café kitchen. It was unprofessional and we hope the new delivery driver will not do it again.”

Dean balances the box on his knees so he can hold up both hands and crosses the fingers with both hands. “Here’s to hoping that he learned his lesson!”

This would probably be one of the better conversation opportunities to bring up the whole thing about the roof and the statue, but there are just too many people around to even consider doing that. The roof is already Cas’s only so called ‘ _private_ ’ space and Dean does feel a little weird going up there without asking his permission – even if it was because of his job. He’ll just have to save that until later. Maybe he can do it by text message when the party is over and Cas isn’t so busy.

Since he’s so aces at his job, Cas has the coffees ready in no time at all. He sticks them in a tray before disappearing into the kitchen. Dean honestly has no idea what to do with himself when Cas isn’t in the room. Should he talk with Anna? But she seems really busy with the customers and keeping the counter clean from where people keep dropping off their plates and empty cups. It seems like a lot of work and Dean half feels like he should get up and help but would that be weird if he did?

Thankfully, Cas comes back before he can even get to his feet. It’s a little odd that he’s wearing his coat, but Dean doesn’t get a chance to ask about it. Cas taps Anna on the shoulder as he picks up the coffee tray. “I’m going to take a brief break to help Dean carry this back to the station. Will you be alright?”

“I’ll be just fine.” She flutters her wings as she gives him a thumbs up. “I’m good here. Just – maybe don’t take too long?”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He gestures for Dean to follow and heads back into the kitchen. As soon as they’re alone, he sighs. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m going with you. I just need a break from all the people. The cake is way too popular for its own good. I think I might have Jess make it into cupcakes.”

Well, he’s going to have to tell Sam to tell Jess that her cake was amazing. “She did a good job and _duh_ , as if I would ever mind that we’re going on a nice little walk. I’m not going to talk you out of it, but I feel like I need to say that you don’t have to do this.”

“I know, I know.” Cas holds the door to the parking lot open for him. “But if I could have escaped from the Halloween party like this, I would have.” He takes a deep breath once they’re outside and lets it out in a slow hiss. “The air in there is so uncomfortably thick. This feels so much better.”

“How long is the party going on for?” They fall into step side-by-side as they head down the alley to the street. “I hope you get to rest soon.”

Cas shrugs and tilts his head back to look at the stars as they walk. “I believe he made the promise that he would be kicking everyone out by midnight. I just hope that he remembers to do that. He has had more to drink than I expected him to have.”

“That’s still a long way off.” Dean winces and shakes his head. Midnight is well over an hour away. “I wish I could invite you into the station to delay you having to go back into the party, but I got in shit with Bobby for doing that last time.”

“It’s alright. I really should get back to the café sooner rather than later.” He sighs and rolls his neck until he’s slanting Dean a smile. “It’s not fair to Anna to leave her to deal with everything alone. I started earlier, so I’m still technically on the clock too.”

Totally understandable and Dean grins at him too. Unfortunately, they reach the station long before he wants them to. The walk is way too short for Dean’s liking, leaving them little to no time to turn the conversation from small talk to what he _actually_ wants to talk about. Also, because they’re carrying cake and coffee between them, he can’t go for the hug he normally would – even if Cas has been a little stiff during their hugs for the last little while.

He sighs and turns to face Cas on the steps of the station. “I probably won’t be stopping by for my usual coffee run later on. I’m pretty sure I’m already going to get yelled at for taking so long.” It really wasn’t _that_ long and Bobby did say that he could stay a little longer, but sometimes it’s really hard to tell when it comes to the boss.

“I’m sorry I held you up.” Cas offers him an apologetic smile as he hands over the tray of coffee. “Please tell your boss that it was my fault and not yours.”

“Hell no. I’m not blaming you.” Dean shakes his head and holds up the box of cake. “I’ll soothe the savage beast with some delicious cake. It’s delicious and he won’t be able to resist it at all. Also, my compliments to the baker.”

Cas actually laughs at that, soft and under his breath. “I’ll be sure to let Jess know. Thank you.” He raises his hand in wave as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our usual movie and game night?”

“Absolutely!” Dean has to use the cake box to wave, but it’s good enough. He bites his lip as Cas turns away, hesitating long enough for him to reach the sidewalk again before he calls out. “Hey, Cas?”

He stops and turns, his eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

Oh man. This is the worst. Dean spent half the day thinking about how to ask Cas about the statue, but everything he mentally practiced has just evaporated out of his brain. He shifts from one foot to the other as Cas comes back up the path so they’re standing together again. Good. That makes it less awkward so they’re not going to be talking loudly to hear each other. If they get too loud, it might catch the attention of someone inside and the last thing he wants is for one of them to overhear what he wants to talk to Cas about.

“I –” Dean clears his throat and forces himself to keep looking Cas in the face, even though he really wants to be staring at the ground right now. “I had to check the roof today.”

That obviously strikes a chord with Cas. He goes unnaturally still and his eyes go wide behind his glasses. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, because an instant later he’s ducking his head to hide his face in his hands. “Oh God, you _saw_ it.” Cas sighs and shakes his head before looking up with a small smile. “I’m a bit embarrassed by that statue. It’s the reason that I don’t take anyone to the roof.”

Wait a second. That’s just – what? Dean frowns; trying to sort things out in his head. “Why are you embarrassed about it?”

Cas rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He can’t look him in the eye and Dean doesn’t know if it’s because Cas is lying or if he’s embarrassed. “I did some modeling for an art class a few years ago for some extra spending money before Gabriel and I left Florida. We were going to road trip for a while and I didn’t want to have to dip into my savings that much.”

He shrugs and drops his hands to tuck them into the pockets of his coat. “Someone took the sketches from that modeling event and made a statue from them for some kind of competition. Once the competition was over, they _insisted_ on sending me the statue.” Cas gives him a stilted smile that _might_ be him trying to use a what’cha-gonna-do look. “It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever been gifted, but it does add a special _je ne sais quoi_ to my garden, don’t you agree?”

“Definitely!” There’s not a chance in hell that Dean believes him, but he forces himself to laugh. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I had to go up there.” He waves the box of cake again. “That was it, so I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Of course.” Cas gives a stiff little wave before he turns on his heel and heads back to the café at a brisk, rather suspicious pace.

Dean hangs back for a few moments, watching him walk away. A heavy weight is resting low in his chest and it’s making the delicious cake in his belly turn uncomfortably. He should accept Cas’s explanation at face value and just let the whole thing go, but he can’t. There’s just – there’s a _stink_ of deception about this whole thing and Dean hates that he’s doubting one of his best friends. But there’s something else to take into consideration. If Cas is willing to _lie to his face_ about this, then it must be important, right? Dean should respect that – even if it hurts.

*

**_Saturday – April 2 nd, 2016_ **

Okay, so, mental note: never change the time of the coffee run. Without the jolt of caffeine after midnight, Dean is completely and utterly _drained_ by the time he gets home. He drops face first onto his bed without taking off a single article of clothing – aside from taking off his boots. He’s so tired that he’s even still wearing his _coat_. Everything aches right down to his toes because for some godforsaken reason Dean thought it would be a good thing to _work out_ to keep  himself from falling asleep throughout the night.

That worked until they had a call. It left him emotionally and mentally taxed, and that’s not something he likes every being. The lack of coffee didn’t help anything either. Dean really doesn’t like doing medical calls and he likes them even less when he’s distracted by personal shit. It’s really unprofessional of him to take that on the job with him. Of course it didn’t affect his job, but it was annoying to have thoughts about Cas and that statue pop to the forefront of his mind every now and then.

Fuck. Now he’s got that stuck in his head again. With a groan, Dean’s rolls of the bed and sheds his coat and hangs it on the back of his desk chair. He drops onto the chair and rolls his shoulders as he boots his computer up. As tired as he is, he knows that there’s no way in hell that he’s going to be able to get to sleep with this weighing on his mind. Besides that, he’s been waiting to do this since he and Cas parted ways and he definitely could have done it while he was at the station.

It was _so_ tempting to do some investigating of his own while he was at work, but there were too many risks involved with it. For one, the computer at the station isn’t exactly private. Anyone could look over his shoulder and see what he’s looking up, and it’s not like the searches are private either. Everything on the network is tracked and he doesn’t want _anyone_ to see this. Sure, he could have done it on his phone, but that would either use his data or still be on the station’s Wi-Fi.

Obviously the safest option was to wait until he got home. As soon as the computer is on, he pulls up an incognito browser to try and keep things on the down low. Since the statue is clearly having to do with Cas, Dean searches _Creature_ \+ _statue_ \+ _no sun_. It’s not the best of searches, but hopefully it will come up with something. Unfortunately, the first few links of obviously a bust and he doesn’t bother looking at anything below those because they’re usually useless.

The first link is about statues erected to honour various nocturnal Creatures, and the other few links that he sees are about Trolls – both the kind from Lord of the Rings and in real life. Every other link seems to be about extinct Creatures or pointless lists that don’t include _statue_ in the actual search terms. Besides, he’s probably already looked at all those lists when he first tried figuring out what Cas might be in the first few weeks of knowing each other.

Since this search seems to be coming up a bust, Dean adds _wings_ to the search parameters. Using that will take modern day Trolls out of the picture. There’s not a single Troll race out there that has wings, and even if they did they still don’t look anything like Cas. From what Dean has seen of them, their skin is usually a grayish colour and they have some more obvious defining feature than Cas does. Something like long, pointed ears or a hell of an underbite. Granted, surgery and braces could fix that, but Dean is pretty sure Cas hasn’t had any kind of work done.

Adding _wings_ to the search does weed out a few of the links, and it adds a few more. The extinct Creatures lists are still there, because a lot of them _did_ have wings, but it’s the new ones that catch Dean’s eye. It’s a Wikipedia page about a cartoon series and just reading the title of it sends a goddamn lightbulb goes off in his head. How in the hell didn’t he put two and two together earlier? A statue? Sunlight? _Wings_? He fucking loved this show as a kid and he hasn’t thought about it in probably ten years, but _still_.

 _Gargoyles_.

The cartoon series was based in a world where magic and fantastical things still existed but it was little known. It was all about how a group of Gargoyles from ancient times were frozen in their stone sleep – something that the sun forced them to take – for ages and they ended up waking in modern day New York. It was a totally awesome show and Dean can’t believe that he forgot about it – particularly after he low key crushed on Goliath. Of course back then he didn’t really realize that it was a _crush_ since that was well before he figured out that he liked guys too.

Directly below the Wikipedia link is another about the actual Creatures that exist. Strangely enough, they’re listed as being _almost_ extinct. Of course it wouldn’t have showed up in the previous links if Gargoyles are still kind of around. Maybe Dean would have found these links if he’d scrolled down a little farther and trusted the first page of his Google search a little more.

In any case, the pictures in the Wikipedia article show what Gargoyle _used_ to look like, and what their modern day descendants usually look like now. They’ve certain done more interbreeding with Humans than other races because a _lot_ of the physical signs seem to be mostly gone. All the Gargoyles of today seem to have are varying extremes of pointed teeth, the occasional glowing eyes, and their wings. Of course there’s still the stone-in-sunlight thing, and some superhuman strength going on too.

The more Dean scrolls through the article, the more certain he is that he just stumbled across what Cas is. There are a few differences in the _style_ of wings, such as some being attached to the underside of the arm or free like a Dragon or an Angel, or they’re more bird-like than bat-like. No matter what, the modern day Gargoyles still look badass. There are pictures and sketches of both current and ancient Gargoyles flying or roaring, the details of their eyes lost in an angry glow and holy _shit_. Dean can’t help shivering at the mere idea that Cas might be like that too one day.

Their wings just make them look like cool statues you would expect to see in a museum made by some ancient Greek sculptor or something. They look just like the statue of Cas did in his garden and that more or less cinches this for Dean.  For now, he’s going to pointedly ignore the fact that the Cas he sees every other day doesn’t actually _have_ wings.

There’s gotta be a reason the statue had them and Cas doesn’t. If anything, Gabriel probably had a hand in that. Since they both know magic, it’s not a far cry to assume that they’ve put together some kind of spell that could hide Cas’s wings from everyone, right? Maybe he hides them when he’s awake and releases them when he’s sleeping? But Dean has never side a single feather in their place and if his wings were out every day, wouldn’t there be _some_ shedding happening?

Those are the kinds of questions he’s going to have to hold on to until Cas is ready to tell him about this. Right now, he’s more interested in reading the section of article that explains _why_ Gargoyles are on the brink of extinction. After reading a few paragraphs, it’s no fucking wonder that Cas doesn’t want to ever talk about what he is – if he really is a Gargoyle, that is.

According to the Wikipedia article, and the follow up internet searches that Dean does to confirm this, Witches are the reason Gargoyles are nearly extinct. They’ve hunted them straight onto the _endangered_ list, leaving only a few hundred or so of the species scattered around the world, or so the internet is telling him. As far as Dean can find, the exact numbers are unknown and various governments around the world are keeping it that way to protect them.

The most disgusting thing about all of this is _why_ Witches are after Gargoyles. Dean actually has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to read the article he found about that, if only because of the pictures of shattered statues that it has. He can’t stomach the mere thought that if Cas isn’t careful, that could be a piece of his stone wing or hand or half his face lying there in a pile of rubble.

Because that’s what Witches do. They smash the Gargoyles during their stone sleep. Apparently powdered Gargoyle stone is the primary ingredient in some kind of illegal potion that is said to extend life. Of course, not _all_ Witches do this or are after the ingredient. The only ones who even have access to the potion recipe are the ones who are a part of a Dark Coven – the ones who practice _black_ magic. Dean knows a little bit about those kinds of covens because they had to learn about them in school, if only to try and deter any magic users from wanting to try practicing it.

There is only one thing that separates black magic from regular magic, and that’s a _Demon_. Black magic is incredibly strong and very dangerous because it can only be used by Witches who have sold their soul and made a pact with a Demon. After they do that, the Demon gives them access to extraordinary magical powers that are far beyond what most Witches are able to achieve naturally. The Demon also gives them access to forbidden spells and potions – something only they have.

The instructions for those are apparently written in the language of Hell and the only Creatures capable of reading it are Demons. So, even if a normal non-dark magic Witch manages to get their hands on a black magic spell book, they wouldn’t be able to read it. Even if they could, they wouldn’t have the Demon around to boost their magic to the point where they’d be able to use the contents of the spell book. And, frankly speaking, Dean can’t understand why _anyone_ would ever make a pact with a Demon just for some spells.

It’s quite clearly stated in just about every place that he can find information about black magic that when the Witch dies, they go straight to Hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. God knows what their subjected to while they’re down there, but eventually the Witch’s soul becomes so corrupt that they become a Demon themselves. If that’s the case, then it’s no fucking wonder that Witches who practice black magic want a potion to extend their lives. That said, it’s still completely and utterly disgusting that they would smash a Gargoyle and take an innocent life just to extend their own. It turns Dean’s stomach just thinking about it.

This is a lot of information to take in and Dean sits back to stare at his screen. He’s almost positive, after everything he’s learned just now, that Cas is a Gargoyle. If he is, or even if he isn’t, Dean still isn’t going to say a word about it. There’s no fucking way he’s going to push about this. As of this moment, his lips are going to be completely and utterly sealed on all topics concerning what kind of Creature Cas might be, because this – this is big. This is life-or-death _big_ and he honestly never considered that as a reason why Cas has never said anything regarding what he might be.

Despite having used an incognito browser, Dean still clears his browser history. He deletes his cookies and just about anything and everything that might even slightly show on his computer what he had been looking at. Hopefully that will be enough so that no one who touches his computer will ever know that he looked this up.

If Cas ever wants to tell him the truth, then Dean trusts that he will someday. For now, he’s just going to try and forget he ever did this research. This is a something worth keeping – worth _hiding_ – and Dean will take this secret to his grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to fold a rose like Cas, [here's the link to it](http://www.instructables.com/id/Origami-Rose-in-Bloom-Part-1/)! 
> 
> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_** ** _

**_Friday – April 1 st, 2016_ **

The walk back to the café is a complete blur for him. Castiel remembers almost nothing between leaving Dean on the steps of the fire station to when he uses his key to let himself into the back of the café. He’s been shaken to his core and it’s surprising that he didn’t simply sprint away the moment Dean said that he had gone to the roof. In fact, Castiel is fairly certain that – by some miracle – he actually managed a steady pace all the way back to the café; regardless of how his hands are trembling in his pockets.

Once he’s in the safety of the kitchen, he stops to take a deep breath – and then another. It feels like he hasn’t actually _breathed_ in forever. His chest feels tight; like his ribs are closing in around his lungs. The thought of going back into the front where the party is still in full swing makes him sway in place, suddenly dizzy on his feet. Castiel can see Anna from where he’s standing, and she’s working hard at serving drinks and treats. He knows in his heart that he’s not capable of going back out there with a smile on his face to play the good host again.

His steps are unsteady as he makes his way across the kitchen. Anna turns to grab something, or maybe her innate Fae senses noticed that he returned, but she catches his eye nonetheless. All Castiel can do is shake his head as he turns for the stairs. If he wasn’t already preoccupied with his imminent anxiety attack, then maybe he would feel worse about abandoning her to the party. Castiel is not normally one to shirk his job, but he’s in no state to go back out there. He’s not sure he’s even capable of it, given how his bones feel like they’re made of jelly and he’s liable to collapse at any moment.

There’s a lump sitting in the middle of his throat and it feels like it’s swelling; cutting off his air supply. He can’t breathe, and even the massive kitchen feels too small for him. Castiel needs a space where he feels safe right now, and the only place he can think of right now is his bedroom. Even though his bedroom is only seconds away, he can’t get there fast enough and he takes the stairs two at a time. His boots track slush and dirt across the kitchen floor; not stopping to take them or his coat off.

Once the door to his bedroom is shut, Castiel does feel marginally better. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him to stop shaking. He sits on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands; his eyes closed so all he has to focus on is his breathing. The bed shifts slightly off to one side and, within moments, Nike meows softly and rubs against his side. Her steady rumble of a purr is just as calming for her as it is for him and Castiel moves his arm enough for her to push her way onto his lap.

It could be half an hour, or it could be only a few minutes, but eventually there is a loud knock at his door. Despite his truly excellent hearing, it still catches Castiel by surprise. He had been so wrapped up in his breathing exercises to deal with the anxiety blossoming tightly in his chest that he didn’t even hear someone enter the apartment. The chances are high that it’s probably Anna coming to beg him to come back down and help her with the party attendees. Unfortunately for her, he hasn’t yet reached a point where he can deal with actual people right now.

Without waiting for permission, the door swings open to reveal Gabriel leaning heavily on its handle. He sways slightly as he slowly stumbles into the room. Despite the drunken stagger in his step, Gabriel still manages to fix him with a frown of concern. “Y’okay?”

No, Castiel is decidedly _not_ okay and he shakes his head to show it. He drops his hands to lift Nike from his lap and hold her against his chest. She makes a soft chirrup of delight and starts rubbing her face against the edge of his jaw; her whiskers tickling slightly. It’s not much, but it helps.

Gabriel wanders over to drop heavily onto the bed. He starts rubbing Castiel’s back in soothing circles. “D’you wanna talk about it or somethin’?”

There’s no one besides select people in the government that he could talk to regarding this – not that Castiel would want to. Though they should contact their handlers to let them know that someone here might know he’s a Gargoyle. It means the FBI will keep an eye on Dean in the loosest sense of the word, just in case he might tell someone. Unless they’re watching him in person, Castiel doesn’t know how they could catch anything unless he tells someone about it online. That’s usually how they watch most people, as far as he knows.

With a deep breath and an extra squeeze to the cat, Castiel lifts his head. “This afternoon – when the firefighters were here –” He has to pause as the words feels like they’re scraping their way through his throat and making it hard to speak. “When _Dean_ was up here, he – Did you know that he went up on the roof while he was here?”

As soon as the words are out of Castiel’s mouth, Gabriel’s hand stops its slow circle on his back and he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. “Oh, shit.” He sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “No, I didn’t. Which story did ya’ feed him?”

“Modeling.” Castiel shrugs and lets Nike down to his lap again as she starts to squirm.

When they moved here, the two of them had a prepared a number of reasons for why there would be a statue of him on the roof. This is the first time that they’ve actually had to use one. Though they have a few ready to use at a moment’s notice, Castiel has always thought that the modeling one was the most sensible. It’s the most plausible of their stories, despite how absolutely ridiculous it is.

Gabriel sighs loudly and he rubs a hand over his face. “Did he buy it?”

“I doubt it.” He shakes his head and looks down at Nike as she starts kneading his thigh.

The story might have made the most sense, but Dean knows him. He knows that before they started hanging out together, Castiel never _did_ anything with other people. The only reason he can work at the café is because it feels like a safe space for him. Castiel hardly ever goes to other restaurants, and when he does it’s usually to get some take out. He can put up with it if he’s with Gabriel, but it makes him very nervous to go anywhere alone. His walks are just about the only thing he can alone outside of his safe spaces. Dean knows that, and therefore he knows that Castiel’s social anxiety would never have allowed him to pose near naked for anyone, let alone a gaggle of art students.

Not only does Dean know him very well, but he’s also very smart. That’s something that Castiel really likes about him. They can have in depth conversations about just about anything and Dean knows exactly what he’s talking about. He’s even open minded enough to accept when he’s found that he’s wrong about something, though he does tend to grump about it at first. However, it’s his intelligence that is causing Castiel the most upset right now.

There is little doubt in his mind that Dean doesn’t believe his story. And there is every possibility that at the first chance he had, he went and investigated about what kind of Creatures are connected to statues. Castiel is almost completely positive that Dean is going to know _exactly_ what he is by the end of the night. The thing is, no one knows that he’s a Gargoyle. No one except for Gabriel, the government, and perhaps a select few people back in Canton. But those are people who haven’t seen them for over a decade and Castiel doubts he’ll ever see them again.

If he really stops to think about it, then he also has strong suspicions about Anna and Balthazar perhaps knowing what he is. But there really was nothing he could do to keep that from them. He knew the moment Gabriel introduced him to Fae that they probably knew immediately. The Fae have extra senses that extend far beyond what most Creatures have. They function on a separate plane from the reality that most everyone knows and their eyes see far more than anyone. Not even a glamour can stand against their eyes.

It was Anna and Balthazar who eventually confirmed that there was nothing to fear about Chuck having written them all into his books. They could _feel_ that he has Seer blood in him. It’s weak, which is likely why he gets flashes of things in his dreams and uses those in his writing. Having them around has been useful in that regard, as Castiel is sure that they would say something if they sensed anyone dangerous around. The Fae are _all_ about secrets, but they know what are good ones to keep and what’s not.

While Castiel might not trust most people, he does put his trust in Anna and Balthazar to keep his secret. If possible, he’d like to put that same trust in Dean. The fact that he’s a Gargoyle is really one of the very few things that he’s kept to himself in their friendship – despite how much he wants to be able to trust Dean with this secret. He trusts him in very nearly every other aspect of his life except for this one. This one is different. _This_ secret could mean life or death, and not just for Castiel.

Except – Maybe this isn’t as bad as he thought it would be? Maybe Dean going to the roof today is a blessing in disguise? If Dean knew that he was a Gargoyle – If he figured it out on his own – then all Castiel would have to do is explain the situation. He could tell him about all the risks about being involved with him and, once he knows _everything_ , Dean could make the decision that only he can make: whether or not he wants to accept Castiel, dangers and all.

His heart trips over itself in his chest at the realization. It’s very possible that Dean will already figure out the risks himself. Castiel has seen the articles and information on the internet about his species. If Dean does the right search, he’ll find out all about the dark magic covens that hunt Gargoyles for their stone. It’s possible that he’ll pair that knowledge with what he knows about Castiel’s parents, and maybe he’ll realize what dangers come with being in a relationship with a Gargoyle.

If he still wants to be together even after figuring all that out, then all they would need to do is take the necessary precautions. With Gabriel nearby to provide magical support, and the presence of Fae – a race commonly known for being unpredictable, extremely protective, and in possession of strange powers – a Witch might not take the risk to attack them. They might very well have the chance at making sure that what happened to Castiel’s parents never ends up happening to him and Dean.

Gabriel sighs loudly and leans back to rest on his hands. “So, what’re y’gonna do, Cassie?” He shifts his weight to one hand and uses the other to start rubbing Castiel’s back again. “Are y’gonna talk t’him about it?”

His thoughts haven’t quite reached that point and all he can do is shrug. Castiel’s desire to keep Dean safe far outweighs everything else. If he wants to ensure that he remains safe, then it would be best for them to _not_ be in relationship. The only problem with that is all the urges that leaves him with. Castiel itches for _more_ with him; more touching, more talking, more time spent together – _more_.

But the longer he wavers on his own happiness, the more likely it is that Dean will eventually move on from him. He’ll find someone else and Castiel will see less of him. Already that makes his heart ache just to imagine it and he’s terrified of the heartbreak he’ll feel when it actually happens – when he knows that he waited too long and lost his chance with Dean completely. If it wasn’t for that moment in the car on the way home from the Roadhouse, Castiel would already think that he had missed his opportunity.

Dean has wormed his way into his life and his heart. That was never what Castiel was intending to happen when he stepped outside of his comfort zone to make his first friend, but it happened nonetheless and now he doesn’t know what to do. He never had a contingency plan for falling in love. For all the song and movies out there toting this as such a great feeling, it’s brought him nothing but pain and he sometimes thinks he might be regretting letting anyone into his life.

After a few moments of silence, Gabriel pats him on the shoulder and uses it as leverage to help pull himself to his feet. “I guess y’can always just ignore it. Don’t say anything until he does.” He shrugs and turns to give him a wry smile. “Dean’s a good kid. He won’t say anything he knows he ain’t supposed to.”

Castiel knows that. He knows Dean is a good person and he knows that he’s smart. He knows that, after more than seven months of being friends without him every once saying what sort of Creatures he is, Dean would never just blurt it out to the first person he sees once he figures it out himself. Castiel knows that, believes that, trusts Dean and more – but he still can’t get his heart to calm down. It’s still racing with the buzzing chaos of his anxiety and he just wants it to _stop_.

“Alright. Here’s the deal.” Gabriel ruffles his hair before he reaches down to scratch Nike behind the ear. “Anna’s shift is up in half an hour. Take that time to calm down with a shower or somethin’, okay? Then you can come down when yer nice and read and we’ll pay Anna extra for being a trooper.”

“Thank you.” Castiel breathes a quiet sigh of relief as that takes one weight off of his mind. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday party.”

With a laugh, Gabriel pinches his cheek. “Y’haven’t ruined a thing. It’s going great down there and I’m having myself a _blast_.” Castiel slaps his hand away but Gabriel still flashes him a smile. “If yer not back down for yer actual shift, I’ll hafta come back up her and yer not gonna like what I’m gonna do to get you outta this room.”

It’s an empty threat that has an emphasis of drunken slur to it, but it still draws at least a dry chuckle out of him. Castiel waves Gabriel out of the room and spends another several minutes simply patting Nike’s head to help calm down. While they both might be trying to downplay how serious this is, Castiel really does have every right to be freaking out. As much as he wants this to be okay, and as much as he wants to share his secret with the person closest to him outside of his own family, he just can’t shake the feeling that this is not going to end well.

Maybe it’s because he’s spent the last thirteen years of his life thinking about how no one is ever going to be safe with him. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually quite the pessimist. Or maybe it’s just any of the hundred or so reasons that present themselves about why anyone knowing what he is would be a bad thing. Either way, he still needs to calm down and get himself into a headspace where he can bring himself to go back down and face the remaining several hours of his actual work shift.

Nike complains when he eventually moves her from his lap. She follows him, clearly irritated, as he heads into the kitchen to hang up his coat. Castiel gets himself a tall glass of water and takes his time downing it before heading into the bathroom for the shower Gabriel prescribed to him. He clearly knew what he was talking about when he suggested it, because the hot water and steam does wonders with helping Castiel relax. It’s a long shower, but by the end of it he has come to a decision.

He only takes the time to dry his hands before he’s digging his phone from the pocket of his abandoned pair of pants. Castiel’s hands don’t even shake that badly as he sends Dean a text message. **_I really am embarrassed about that statue. Could you please not tell anyone about it? I don’t want anyone to ask to see it._**

To his surprise, and his delight, Dean answers almost immediately with a message that is almost purely in emojis. The first is a face with a zipper for a mouth, then a large letter ‘x’ next to a heart. He sends a follow up immediately after. **_My lips are sealed. Cross my heart and hope to die._**

That message is ended with a smiling emoji and Castiel actually manages to breathe a sigh of relief because he honestly believes him – or, at least, he _wants_ to believe him. The fact that he feels relieved makes him think that he does believe Dean in his heart, even if his brain is still questioning things. In either case, Castiel responds to the message with a smiling emoji and a heart, if only to get across how much Dean’s silence on this actually matters to him. **_Thank you._**

With that taken care of, Castiel feels like he can now face the rest of his shift with a brave face. He does owe Anna quite the apology and he’ll be sure to tell her that first once he gets downstairs.

*

**_Saturday – April 2 nd, 2016_ **

Castiel frowns at the TV as he hits every single button on the controller in his hand that isn’t the button to pause the game. No matter what buttons he hits, he’s losing and he’s not happy about that. He’s stretched out on his side on the couch while Dean is sitting on the floor as they play _Super Smash Bros_. This isn’t a game that Castiel is familiar with, but Dean seems to know it inside and out. He should have suspected as much when Dean suggested they play the game while waiting for their dinner to cook.

“I thought you were supposed to be _teaching_ me how to play this game.” Castiel grumbles as, once again, Dean’s Pikachu sends his pink ball thing flying off the edge of the map. “This feels more like you’re utterly _crushing_ me.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” Dean shrugs with a laugh and bounces his character around the platform while Cas’s character respawns.

Castiel brings his knee up to knock Dean lightly in the head. “You’re using my lack of knowledge regarding the controls to your advantage. That’s not fair.”

“You’re just bitter that I’m winning.”

Is that how it’s going to be? Fine, then two can play at that game. Castiel grabs the blanket draped over the back of the couch and he flips it forward so it falls over Dean’s head to obscure his view of the TV. Since he’s currently showing off, this causes Pikachu to jump right off the edge of the map. Dean flails and accidentally bumps his knee on the coffee table while he struggles to get the blanket off his head. He’s not having the best of luck with Castiel more or less holding it in place with one hand while he tries to use the other to make his pink ball thing punch Pikachu off the map again.

Despite his attempts at sabotage, he still doesn’t win the game in the end. It doesn’t really matter, though. Castiel did have fun, even if he lost. In the face of their delicious meal, he can’t really complain. Dean made massive homemade meatballs that he baked in the oven and now he’s pan frying them to crisp up the outsides. They’re going into truly massive hotdog buns for their take on a meatball submarine sandwich.

The kitchen island is decked out with all manner of fixings that they can add to it; enough to put Subway to shame. It’s basically most of the contents of Dean’s fridge and it’s making Castiel’s mouth water just to look at it all while he prepares their side salad. For some reason Dean also has a bowl of chips on the counter and Castiel doesn’t fully understand it’s purpose until they’re making their sandwiches and Dean not only puts a few on his plate next to his salad, but he also places them in his sandwich right next to the jalapenos, tomatoes, peppers, and everything else he added.

“Don’t judge.” He sticks his tongue out when he notices Castiel staring. “Lots of people do it coz’ it adds a different kind of crunch.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Castiel shakes his head but he does take a handful of chips for his plate too. He’ll give it a try with one bite of his sandwich, just to see what all the fuss is apparently about.

While Dean starts up the DVD player and puts in the disc they’ll be watching tonight, Castiel tries that first crunchy bite and promptly adds chips to the rest of his sandwich. It’s ridiculous, but he likes it. The crunch is different from that of the vegetables and the salt and vinegar pop of the chips adds a nice flavour without soaking the bread with vinegar. The marinara sauce they mixed the meatballs in is doing a good job of that on its own.

Castiel likes it when Dean cooks and he wishes they had more opportunities to cook together like this. Not only does Dean always look so _proud_ whenever Castiel eats something he’s made, but it’s always very delicious. There’s something so nice about knowing that someone went to the effort of making you something to eat, and he hopes that Dean gets the same feeling whenever Castiel cooks for him. If he could, he would like to cook for him more often, but their schedules don’t sync up enough for that.

Sometimes, when his strength wanes and his mind wanders into fantasy, Castiel finds himself imagining what it would be like to have a breakfast ready for Dean whenever he finishes working at the station. He could just come over when his shift is done and they could eat together before going to bed. They could cuddle and spoon and talk softly with each other until they fall asleep. This fantasy world of his is just so very nice and sometimes Castiel gets a little too lost in it for his own good.

In fact, thinking about it right now is really not the best for him. Thoughts of cuddling lead him to thinking about the closest he and Dean have gotten to that – which is holding hands. It takes him a while to get to that point, if only because he’s partially distracted by the first movie in the franchise they’re going to try and watch now: _The Planet of the Apes_. It’s an interesting concept and it does catch Castiel’s attention, but his mind wanders too much for his own good and eventually it comes back to thinking about holding hands with Dean.

At that point they have long finished their delicious dinner and they’re simply sitting at opposite ends of the couch. Castiel flexes his fingers against his thigh and steals a glance from the corner of his eye. Would it be entirely unacceptable for them to do it again? Dean hasn’t made even an iota of effort to do it again since the night at the Roadhouse. In fact, he’s been completely normal despite the fact of having seen Castiel in his stone sleep – whether he knew it was him or not.

Between the two of them, it seems that Castiel is the only one who feels like his world was turned upside down. He was able to put on a good show earlier when they were playing video games, acting like nothing was bothering him, but he’s still very much struggling with coming to terms that Dean might know what he is now. Everything feels _off_ for him now, like the world has shifted slightly and he can’t exactly pinpoint how. But it only feels like that where Dean is concerned.

The problem he has now is whether to act on the fact that Dean might possibly know that he’s a Gargoyle now. If he does know, then what’s stopping Castiel from taking the first steps towards confirming it for him? That would close the gap between them. He wants to get closer to Dean, doesn’t he? Not just physically, but emotionally – and that’s the most important to Castiel right now. That’s what he wants, but should he take that step? Is it the right thing to do?

No matter whether he acts on it or not, the risks for Dean are never going to change. Whether he knows if Castiel is a Gargoyle or whether he doesn’t isn’t going to change that he’s going to be in danger if they’re in a relationship. Castiel hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the dark Coven that killed his parents more than a decade ago, but that doesn’t mean their gone for good. The FBI hasn’t been able to find them either, but they’re still out there and so are others. They might come looking for him eventually and they’ll go through anyone when they do.

His common sense is at war with his desires and his mind keeps going in circles whenever it comes to Dean. Castiel is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even realize that he’s not even really paying attention to the movie. Which is disappointing, really. They decided together that they were going to marathon all the movies over the next few times that they hang out together.

They’re probably halfway through it when Dean pauses it. He twists on the couch to face Castiel, his face pinched with concern. “You okay there, Cas?”

“Yes.” Castiel shrugs and turns to look at him. “Why?”

“You’ve got that look on your face that you get when you’re uncomfortable.” Dean shrugs and gestures at his own face while he apparently makes an attempt to mimic Castiel’s expression. All it does is look vaguely pained in some sense. “Like this. So, is everything okay or is this about the statue thing?”

Castiel tightens his fist against his knee and takes a sharp breath through his nose as he bites his lips. He wasn’t planning on mentioning anything about what happened yesterday, and here Dean is having gone and done just that. Looking him in the eye is getting hard and he stares down at his lap. This _is_ about seeing him when he was sleeping, but at the same time it isn’t.

Dean reaches across the couch to gently touch Castiel’s arm to get his attention. “I meant it when I said that I wasn’t going to tell anyone, Cas. It’s your secret and I aim to keep it.” He breaks into a small smile when Castiel looks up at him. “Remember what I said; my lips are sealed.” Dean mimes zipping his lips. “And cross my heart.” He draws an ‘x’ on his chest with the tip of his finger.

He looks so sincere that it’s difficult to keep himself from blurting out the truth about what Dean saw yesterday. Castiel presses his lips into a tight line to keep from saying it. His silence, however, seems to make Dean think the worst of everything. After a few moments where neither of them say anything, he slumps against the back of the couch with a sigh.

“Still don’t have you convinced, huh?” Dean sticks his bottom lip out in a pout before he sits up again. “What about a pinky promise? If I break my word and tell anyone about your roof statue, then I give you full permission to break this pinky.” He holds up his left hand with his little finger raised.

Castiel can’t help but roll his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, don’t mock it.” Dean huffs and crooks his pinky a few times. “Breaking it is totally legit, y’know. The original pinky promise was actually where you would get your finger cut off if you broke it.”

“I’m not going to cut off _or_ break your finger, Dean.” Castiel sighs, but he makes no motion to meet Dean’s raised hand.

He sighs again and frowns. “I know, but I’m serious here, Cas. I want you to understand that I’m _break my finger_ serious about keeping any secret you ever share with me no matter what it is.”

That’s quite the promise, and that sincerity in Dean’s voice makes his heart start beating all the harder. It really leaves him no other choice in the matter. He still stares Dean down for a few moments before he carefully lifts his hand to hook his pinky finger with his. The moment their fingers brush, a little tingle zips up his arm and his pulse races all the harder. Dean breaks into a big grin and he bounces their hands together a few times, as if they were shaking hands to seal a deal.

“See, there we go!” He laughs and tightens his grip on Castiel’s pinky if only for a moment. “You have my full permission to bust this baby if I saw a word to anyone about the statue.”

“Thank you.” To his great surprise, Castiel actually finds himself smiling too. The sincerity in Dean’s tone eases him far more than he expected. “I really do appreciate it.”

After a moment, Dean’s hand relaxes as if he was going to let go. Castiel can’t make himself do the same. He keeps his hold and simply lowers their hands until they’re resting on the cushion between them. He doesn’t want to let go just yet. The smile slips from Dean’s lips; falling into something a little more awe-struck. His gaze drops to stare at their hands rather than turning his attention back to the TV and starting the movie again. He glances up at Castiel again, his mouth hanging open just slightly.

Heat is already starting to crawl under his skin; burning in a blush and more. He wants to hold on to Dean’s hand for just a little longer. In fact, the rest of his fingers are itching to curls around the rest of his fingers to tangle together. And why should he refuse himself on that? If the night at the _Roadhouse_ told him anything, it’s that Dean wants to hold his hand and he really should just give in to it.

With that in mind, Castiel very carefully hooks his ring finger around Dean’s. He follows it with the middle finger and then the index until their fingers are laced together. By the time he’s done, Dean’s face is beet red and his own face can’t be any different. When he looks up again, it’s to find Dean staring at him with wide eyes, face full of wonder as if he were looking into the face of God.

Dean swallows thickly and drops his chin to look at their hands again. “C-Cas?”

Though his heart is racing, Castiel forces himself to speak. “Do you remember what happened when we left the Roadhouse?”

When he shakes his head, Castiel turns to face the TV again. He squeezes Dean’s fingers tightly. “This.”

It takes a moment for that to process. Once it does, Dean makes a choked noise in the back of his throat. “We – we – _we held_ –”

He can’t get the whole sentence out and Castiel takes pity on him. “You asked to hold my hand, and I said no.” Castiel shrugs and uses his other hand to smooth out the hem of his sweater. “You ignored me and did it anyways.”

Again, Dean makes that choked, surprised noise. He rubs his free hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cas. If I wasn’t drunk, I wouldn’t have –”

“I know.” Castiel interrupts and he squeezes Dean’s fingers again. “Now please press play again. I would like to see how the movie ends.”

Dean’s jaw drops at the same time that his hand does, clearly surprised. He stares at Castiel, and then their hands, and back up at him again. “This – this is – What is _this_?”

All Castiel can do is shrug. “Practice?”

If only he was able to give the exact reasoning for that. It balances on the tip of his tongue, but Castiel can’t open his mouth to say the words. Try as he might, he can’t make himself confess his own desires. The risk to Dean’s safety still weighs heavy on the forefront of his mind and he can’t bring himself to put him in the same line of fire where Castiel’s mother once stood.

Quite honestly, it’s a bit of a surprise to him that Dean didn’t immediately try to distance himself from their friendship the moment he did whatever search he probably did last night. He must know that Castiel is a Gargoyle by now, and yet he’s still sitting here next to him, holding his hand. There is still a slim chance that Dean _doesn’t_ know, but Castiel isn’t going to think about that right now. He wants to believe that Dean knows and accepts him – at least for the moment.

It still takes a few minutes longer before they start the movie. When Castiel checks on Dean from the corner of his eye later on, it’s to find him struggling and failing to keep a smile from his lips. In all honesty, he’s rather in the same boat here. His whole arm is tingling and his blush hasn’t subsided any. If anything, his body is starting to burn all the hotter and it’s making it hard to breathe. In either case, he doesn’t want to let go of Dean’s hand any more than he did before.

Hopefully this isn’t going to cause Dean to expect too much from him. Castiel doesn’t want to falsely raise his hopes, but this is a step in the direction that they both want to go in. When he’s ready to actually talk to Dean about what he is, then maybe they can do more than just simply holding hands. Maybe, when they have that talk, they can take the next step together and – Oh, he should stop thinking about that right now.

If he continues along that train of thought, he’s going to delve too far into his fantasies. Really, he should satisfy himself with this for right now. This is good enough for him and he should be happy with it. And he _is_ , especially when Dean tightens his hold on his fingers, squeezing them to the point that they almost hurt.

Castiel is almost brought to dizziness when he thinks about how Dean must know that he’s a Gargoyle. He must have done the math and figured out that Castiel’s parents were killed because of what he is – and what his father was. Dean must know, and yet he’s still here. He’s still holding Castiel’s hand, and that – well that is just _excellent_ yet terrible all at the same time. Being with him is going to put Dean in danger and Castiel has never been so torn on a subject. Between his desire to be with Dean and his desire to keep him safe, he doesn’t know what to do.

But maybe – just maybe – that’s something they can figure out together when they take the next step.

_ _

**_Sunday – April 3 rd, 2016_ **

Dean sits on the edge of his bed and tries not to twiddle his thumbs together while he watches the clock. It’s his day off, but he’s up abnormally early for reasons he can’t control despite his best efforts to do so. The LARP group ran a poll to decide the best time to hold on online chat meeting where the most members of the group would be able to participate. For some Godforsaken reason that meant the single digit hours of a Sunday morning.

Now, Dean _could_ have slept through it if he _really_ wanted to. He and Charlie are the heads of the LARP group and she knows what they want to discuss together so really only one of them has to be there. But that wouldn’t be fair to Charlie because they both had late nights last night. Dean had Cas over for dinner plus three whole movies, and Charlie wasn’t back until even later from her date with Gilda. By all accounts they should both be exhausted, but Dean is weirdly energized right now.

It’s totally strange for him to be bright eyed and bushy tailed on a day off, but he’s been up for an hour already and he can hardly contain himself. So far he’s showered, shaved, re-organized his bedroom closet, changed the sheets on his bed, and started a load of laundry. The clock is telling him that Charlie’s alarm should have gone off a few minutes ago and now all he’s waiting for is to hear movement to know that she’s awake. Dean’s knee bounces with pent up energy while he waits.

He’s up and off the bed the moment he hears her bedroom door open. Of course she goes straight into the bathroom and he has to wait for her to do her business before he can make his grand entrance. Which is why he takes up pacing back and forth in front of the door that connects his bedroom to the bathroom. He hums loudly to himself so he doesn’t actually hear the act of tinkling, and waits until he hears both a flush and the sink start up before he’s sliding open the pocket door and all but bouncing into the bathroom.

“Charlie!”

She flinches so hard in surprise that she just about stabs herself in the face with her toothbrush. Apparently his timing wasn’t as spot on as he thought it was, having caught her in the act of bringing the toothbrush to her mouth to start brushing. Her hair is a nightmare going in all directions and the spots dotting her skin spark with irritation.

“What the _hell_ , Winchester!” It’s less a question and more an accusation. She sprays toothpaste at him as she gestures sharply with her toothbrush. “What happened to our _boundaries_ , huh?”

Their boundaries were left in the dust a long time ago. Specifically that time when Jo was being very sick in the downstairs bathroom while Dean was showering in the upstairs bathroom and _someone_ was feeling just as sick as Jo and absolutely _had_ to use the toilet. God, but Dean wishes that she had been sick in the traditional sense where she could have just used a garbage can to throw up in instead. But _no-o-o-o-o-o_. Of course that couldn’t have happened and there were so many sounds and smells and – Yeah, they definitely don’t have any boundaries left.

Dean grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her a few times. “ _Casheldmyhandlastnight!_ ”

Charlie slaps his hands away and steps back. She hold her arm up to keep him at least that far away from her as she narrows her eyes in an annoyed squint. “Try putting spaces between your words. I literally _just_ woke up.”

Can he really be faulted for being excited? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened with Cas in _weeks_ – aside from the whole statue and Gargoyle thing. But that’s a secret and Dean is going to take it to his grave. He won’t tell his best friend for life, Charlie, and he won’t even tell his little brother – which is definitely saying something because he’s basically told Sam everything since forever. Some of it takes longer, but eventually everything gets told.

Dean bounces in place excitedly, still giddy despite a solid six hours of sleep. He takes a deep breath and tries not to look too much or he’ll look like a fool. “Cas held my _hand_ last night!”

And the best part about it is that Cas did it all on his own! He made the first move. _He_ held on first, and that is just fucking _amazing_. Cas didn’t let go of Dean’s hand throughout the whole movie. When it was over, he was there waiting on the couch to hold hands again once he changed over the DVDs and got them some more snacks. They held hands through _three_ movies and it’s leaving Dean feeling like he’s going to burst from happiness. Is that possible? Can you really explode from being too happy? If it is a thing, then Dean is definitely going to do it.

He’s never been this delirious about something so simple and pure as holding hands, but just remembering back to last night is making Dean feel light head. In fact, he’s starting to get so worked up he might actually throw up. Woo - okay, then. Time to take a breather. He knocks the lid of the toilet seat down and drops onto that, though it doesn’t stop his knee from starting to bounce or his hands from tapping out a complicated rhythm on his thighs.

Charlie blinks at him a few times before she snorts a laugh and starts brushing her teeth. She giggles her way through it but doesn’t actually say anything until she’s spat into the sink. “It’s kinda cute how you’re still so gaga for him. Cute, but a little pathetic.”

Dean leans back and stretches his leg out to shove her hip. “Shut up. It’s fucking adorable and you know it.” He crosses his arms and tries to look pissy, but he can’t stop grinning. “Isn’t it great, though? I’m actually making _progress_.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s _super_ great.” Charlie rolls her eyes and turns to point her foaming toothbrush at him before putting it back in her mouth to talk around it. “But you’d better not go on about this for _days_ again like you did when he first started hugging you after the New Year’s cock up.”

Those are agreeable terms, but Dean is too giddy to think about how he _isn’t_ a love struck fool when it comes to Cas. “I make no promises.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her just for another giggle. “But for your information, last night’s hug totally _lingered_.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and turns back to the sink to finish brushing her teeth. Dean has to wait until she’s done that and finished washing her face before they can talk again. Her hair is still a nightmare when she turns around and pulls him to his feet for a hug. It’s the kind that almost crushes him, but it’s good and he hugs her back just as hard as he can.

“I’m rooting for you.” She flashes him her pearly whites as she pats him on the shoulder. “You two are cute together and I want you to be happy.”

That makes Dean melt a little bit and he pulls her back into a hug so he can rest his cheek on the top of her head. He can’t even put into words just how much it means to him that his best friend approves of Cas. Normally he’d also be going to his parents for their approval, just because he likes the feeling of knowing that they like the person he adores, but he can’t exactly do that just yet. If things with Cas actually happen, then that’s when he’ll tell his parents that he likes guys. Even if they don’t approve, he’ll have to get over that. At least he knows Charlie and Sam are cool with it.

Speaking of Sam, Dean should probably call and apologize to him. After Cas left last night and Charlie wasn’t back to talk with yet, Dean spent an hour texting with Sam. He told him _everything_ that happened because he was oh so excited, but it might have maybe been a little bit annoying. Actually, Dean is pretty sure that Sam either blocked him or turned his phone off because he stopped responding about halfway through the one-sided conversation.

Normally Dean would be annoyed, but it’s hard to be when he’s so excited. If people want to poop on his parade, they can go ahead and do just that. He’s way too happy to care about anything like that. Dean’s another step closer to where he wants to be with Cas and there’s nothing in this world that could bring him down from this.

Of course he’s always going to kick himself for not being able to remember what it was like to hold Cas’s hand the first time on that ride home from the Roadhouse, but at least he can comfort himself with the memories from last night. And, hopefully, with all the memories they’re going to make together in the future. Because there is no fucking way that Dean isn’t going to try to hold Cas’s hand again the next time they hang out together. If he plays his cards right, maybe next time will be palm-to-palm instead of tangled fingers – and just thinking about that is getting his hand tingling like crazy in anticipation.

**_Wednesday – April 6 th, 2016_ **

Installing a heater in the garage really was one of Dad’s best ideas. It gives them a nice space to work on the family cars during the winter. Well, it’s also his workshop, but that’s a different matter. Either way, it’s one of Dean’s favourite things is being elbow deep in the Impala’s guts; giving her the tune ups she needs because she’s not exactly a young spring chicken here. Plus he gets bonding time with his Dad, and that’s pretty nice. This is _their_ time together, because Sam has zero interest in anything mechanical no matter how many times they’ve tried to teach him about the cars.

Sam doesn’t even want anything to do with Dad’s workshop. Woodworking, repairs, and whatever else Dad gets into – he’s got something for everything but Sam is too much of a nerd. Dean doesn’t know who he gets it from, but Sam is all about computers. Maybe Charlie being around had more of an effect on him than anything else in his life? Because she’s been living and breathing technology since she was old enough to walk and talk

While Dean is happy that Sam has his own things that he likes, it’s a shame that he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty with grease and oil and rust. Dad’s workshop in the garage is perfect for it with all his tools and tables against the wall and perfectly arranged. He’s the kind of guy who outlines the tools on the peg board so they absolutely have to go right back to where they belong. Somehow he still managed to leave enough room for two cars to park comfortably too – which was mom’s only requirement when she gave him permission to turn the garage into a workshop.

Currently, both his parents’ cars are parked out on the driveway so they have plenty of room to work on the Impala. It’s not a whole lot of work going on right now. Just changing over the fluids, checking her air filter and the like. Dad’s going over the engine now to make sure that Dean is keeping her in good condition. That was part of the deal when he handed her over on Dean’s eighteenth birthday. If she’s not kept in perfect condition, Dad threatens to take her back. He probably won’t _actually_ take her away, but Dean’s not going to take that risk.

He’s actually under the car and draining the oil into a pan when his phone starts ringing. It’s sitting on a workbench and his hands are way too dirty to even think of handling it. Same goes for Dad, which is why he doesn’t make a move to answer it for him. Dean isn’t expecting any calls, so whoever it is will just leave a voicemail if it’s important. He can deal with it later when they switch out the Impala for Mom’s car to work on that puppy for a while.

That’s the plan, at least. But when the call rings out, there’s only a brief pause before it starts ringing again. Dean slides out from under the car and shares a look with his Dad. When it happens a third time, Dad steps away from the car to at least look at the phone. “It’s Sam. You want to wash your hands to answer it, Mr. Popular?”

Dean rolls his eyes before getting up from the wheel pad. There’s a sink in the corner of the garage and he washes his hands there, giving them a good scrub before he even thinks of touching his phone. Of course it’s long done ringing by the time he’s finished drying his hands. He still checks to see if Sam left a voicemail or texted him, but all he has are three missed calls and one text message telling him to stop pampering the car and answer the damn phone.

Mom walks into the garage while he’s typing out an answer. “Dean! Sammy is on the landline for you.”

Wow, this must be important. Dean cancels his message and puts his phone down. “First; it’s 2016 and it’s crazy that you still have a landline. Second; Thanks, mom.”

She punches him lightly on the shoulder before kissing him on the cheek and handing him the cordless phone. Dean steps into the house to take the call, if only so Dad won’t eavesdrop or be distracted from finishing up with the Impala. Mom is definitely going to listen in, but she does it silently whereas Dad always asks questions in the middle of the conversation.

“Hey, Sammy. What’s shaking?” He nods at his mom while she dumps chips into a bowl in the kitchen. Dean pauses only to kick off his shoes before he wanders into the dining room for a chair to sit on. “This better be good. I had to wash my _hands_ , y’know?”

There is zero humour in Sam’s voice when he answers; getting straight to the point. “The Graveyard Shift is apparently closing for the foreseeable future and I wanted to know what you might know about it? Has Cas told you anything?”

No way did he hear that right. “Excuse me; _what_?” First off, how did Sam hear about this before Dean did? He’s supposed to be hanging out with some friends today doing God knows what like the hooligans they are. And Dean is Cas’s _best friend_. How could Cas not have told him about this?

“Jess just called me and she’s all kinds of upset.” Sam sighs, but the notes of worry are still there. “She said that Cas and Gabe had some kind of family emergency and that they’re going to be gone for – I don’t even know. She didn’t know and neither do I because they never said.” That bit comes out a little faster than he probably intended, making him sound panicked. That’s understandable, though. Dean would feel the same if he were in Sam’s position.

“Wait a sec.” He glances at the big clock hanging on the dining room wall. “Sam, it’s the middle of the afternoon and the sun is still up. How the hell could Cas _leave_?”

Sam makes a frustrated noise before he sighs. This isn’t what he called about, but it is a pretty important question. “You’re lucky Jess told me about this or I wouldn’t have an answer for you. She said a taxi van pulled up to the back of the café and it had one of those pop up tunnels that went right into the kitchen so Cas didn’t have to go in the sun.”

Well, that’s a relief. Dean was worried for half a second there. He’s only ninety-nine percent certain that Cas is a Gargoyle, and he was going to have some serious questions about how they got a statue out the backdoor without anyone noticing. Of course he wasn’t going to specifically mention a _statue_ because then Sam might know and Dean is _not_ going to tell anyone this secret. It’s a life and death kind of secret and he’s going to stick to his guns on this, dammit.

“They left with duffle bags and they even took the cat.” Sam’s voice goes up a few octaves, reaching panicked tones again. “The _cat_ , Dean. Seriously, did Cas say anything about this to you? Are we going to lose our jobs?”

If they took Nike with them, then this is serious. Something bad must have happened to make them run and it’s giving Dean the cold sweats as different scenarios keep popping up in his mind. “Did they – uh – did they leave any contact information?”

“I don’t know.” Sam drops into a defeated mumble, clearly having figured out on his own that Dean knows nothing about this. “Jess said that Balthazar knows how to get a hold of them if he has to, but that she was left in charge with him. And without Cas around to work the overnights during the week, they’re closing The Graveyard Shift for the time being.”

“What about Trick or Treat?”

He can practically hear the shrug in Sam’s voice. “We’re just supposed to keep working as usual. I think Jess mentioned something about her taking over Gabriel’s shifts. I don’t know what they’re going to do with Kevin’s weekend shifts, but they’re going to call an employee meeting in a few days and try and work out some kind of schedule to see if they can figure out how to get the weeknight shifts covered.

Dean rubs a hand over his face as he probably wears holes in the carpet from his pacing. “She sure told you a lot, didn’t she?”

“Well, yeah. She said that her taking over Gabriel’s shifts were actually part of her training when she was hired on.” Sam takes on the same musing tone that Dean has, like he hadn’t really thought of that before. “She said that when she was hired she was told that at some point they might have to leave suddenly, so she had to be prepared to be the _only_ baker in that scenario.” He pauses before his voice drops straight into the serious spectrum. “And I really do mean _suddenly_. She said that Cas was still wearing his pajamas when they came down.”

That makes Dean’s knees go weak, and not in the good way. He ends up dropping onto one of the dining room chairs; his hands starting to shake. “Sorry, Sammy. I wish I had something for you, but this is the first I’ve heard of Cas leaving.”

At least that’s not a lie, but he’s not giving the whole truth either. Dean does have some background information that Sam doesn’t know about. There’s little tidbits that he’s collected over the months of being friends with Cas that add up to this whole story smelling fishy. First of all, Cas doesn’t have any other family. He specifically said that neither of his parents had siblings, so it’s just him and Gabriel left of their family. Secondly, with what he knows now about Gargoyles and their relationships with Witches, the only kind of emergency that Dean could think of is that a dark magic coven might have found them.

God, but he hopes that’s not true. That would mean that Cas is in danger and it’s making Dean dizzy just thinking about it. He can hardly even keep his voice steady when he speaks. “I’ll try and get a hold of Cas. If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Dean.” To his credit, Sam actually does sound relieved. “Everyone at the café right now is freaking the heck out about whether or not we’re going to be out of our jobs soon enough. It’s going to be so busy, especially if we can’t get Kevin up from the weekend night shifts. Either way, we’re going to be short two pairs of hands and things are going to get so busy.” He pauses and drops his voice into a whisper. “I hope nobody quits because it gets too busy.”

“It’ll be okay, Sammy.” Dean goes into big brother mode and forces himself to sound more confident than he feels. “You just get back to having fun with your friends and I’ll talk to you later, okay? Oh, and good luck having Balthazar as your boss.”

Sam snorts loudly and actually manages to laugh. “Thanks. I might need it.”

Dean hangs up and his hands drop into his lap. Mom has made her way to the living room where she’s watching her shows and munching on chips. He knows she keeps glancing at him, but she’s not going to say anything until he does. All Dean can do is stare at his hands while he tries to process all these things before he even thinks about trying to call Cas. It’s absolutely terrifying to him that they might be on the run right now – because if they are, what’s to guarantee that they’ll run back home in the end?

That stirs up more than a little bit of panic and Dean’s hands are shaking as he finds Cas’s contact info. He hits dial and puts the phone to his ear, expecting to wait through a few rings. Instead, it goes right to voicemail and Dean’s heart goes right through the floor. Cas’s phone is _off_ and that is not a good sign. He hangs up immediately and tries calling a few more times before he’s convinced that it’s not going to go through no matter how many much he tries.

On the last attempt, he actually leaves a message. “Hey, Cas. It’s just me. Sam called and said he heard about your family emergency. I hope everything is alright. Can you call me when you get this? Hopefully we’ll talk again soon.”

When he hangs up, Dean tries giving Gabriel a call. His number isn’t even saved in his phone. In fact, Dean has to go back through old text message conversations to find Gabriel’s information from when he sent him some pictures. Unsurprisingly, his number goes right to voicemail too. He doesn’t bother calling it a second time, but he does leave roughly the same message. All that’s left to him is texting and though he doubts that he’ll have any more success in that, Dean still sends both numbers the same message. It’s a much shorter version of his voicemail, but he hopes that they’ll get it eventually.

There’s nothing else that Dean can do, and he’s really unsettled by it. Worry is boiling up hot in the back of his throat; burning and painful. The worst thing about all of this is that there’s nothing he can do. Dean can think until kingdom come, but he’s probably never going to figure out what the hell he could do to help Cas and Gabriel. He’s never felt so _powerless_ before and it’s turning his stomach almost as much as the harsh reality that he might very well never see Cas again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_ _

**_Wednesday – April 6 th, 2016_ **

Dinner with his parents and Sam was a weird thing, especially because Dean had to get the news all over again. Of course Sammy was going to tell Mom and Dad too, because he’s worried about his job security and wants their advice on whether or not he should try finding a new job. Honestly, Dean would have done the exact same thing in his position. Too bad that Sam doing that was the equivalent of throwing him under the bus.

First, Dean got the disapproving head shakes for not having told either parent the moment he found out. And after that he got the _do something_ lecture. His parents were _very_ insistent that Dean do his best to get a hold of Cas and find out what the fuck is going on. Oh, if only it was that simple. In the few hours since he was given the news himself, Dean has called Cas enough times that he’s probably reached _creepy stalker_ levels. Hopefully Cas isn’t going to be freaked out by that whenever he finally gets around to checking his messages.

What happened during dinner and his own mounting worry is what has Dean pulling up in front of the café not even a full thirty minutes after they finish eating. Chances are slim that Cas might have left something in his apartment for him, but he has to look just to satisfy that one little voice that won’t fucking shut up. Dean doesn’t really know the specifics of why Cas and Gabe left suddenly like this, but his suspicions are probably more than on the point. He doesn’t have a single doubt that it has to do with Witches and Cas being a Gargoyle. It would just be _really_ helpful to have confirmation – that _closure_ – in case Cas never comes back.

Anna is behind the counter when he walks into the café. There’s a lady standing next to her who honest-to-God is wearing a _pant suit_ underneath her apron. Her hair is done up in a tight bun and she looks _very focused_ while staring at the cash register. It looks like Anna is actually in the process of _training_ her and that brings up all sorts of questions. He’ll probably have to ask them to Balthazar and Jess instead of her. He can see them on stools in the kitchen, sitting at one of the worktops with their heads together while they pour over a laptop.

The training for suit-lady must be pretty intense, because Anna doesn’t even look up until Dean is at the counter. Her wings were hanging all sorts of limp, but they perk up when she sees him and actually _smiles_. “Dean!”

His smile doesn’t feel half as genuine, but he does throw in a greeting-nod because those are totally a thing. “Hey, Anna. How are you handling things?”

That makes her smile fall a little and she sighs, her wings wilting flat to her back again. “So far so good. We’re lucky we’re a small business, otherwise I’d have a lot more worried calls to field while Jess and Balthazar work on figuring out the business aspect of things.”

After a pause, her wings flip up again. “Oh! Sorry for my bad manners.” She gestures at the lady standing next to her. “Dean, this is Naomi. She’s from a temp agency and is, apparently, going to be helping us in Gabriel and Castiel’s absence. She’s going to work the front so Jess can focus on doing all the baking and helping Balthazar run the café.”

While that totally makes sense, it makes Dean feel uneasy. Getting someone to cover what Jess usually does in the front means this could be more long-term than he was hoping it would be. The fact that Jess and Balthazar are both also still here this late in the evening when their shifts were both up hours ago is also not a good sign. Oh man – there’s that queasy feeling again like he’s going to throw up.

He keeps himself from looking how he feels by smiling and holding out his hand. “Nice to meet’cha, Naomi. I’m Dean.”

She looks between his hand and his face before actually shaking it. “A pleasure. Are you one of the other employees or a frequent customer?”

“Frequent customer to _The Graveyard Shift_.” It’s necessary to point that out, because that’s _Cas’s_ store and he patronizes it ten times more than he does _Trick or Treat_. “I work down the street at the fire station and usually come in to get a little pick-me-up from Cas during the night shift.” And he hasn’t even allowed himself to think of alternatives to that now that the café is going to be closing every evening at eleven o’clock.

Anna clears her throat and she gestures between Naomi and Dean. “He’s leaving out the most important part: he’s also Castiel’s best friend.”

Oh Jesus. Dean ducks his head and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah, that too.”

Naomi simply nods and looks down at the register again. Anna rolls her eyes at her and looks to Dean with a sigh. “Did Cas really not say anything to you about going away?”

He shakes his head, his eye catching on the crystal ball sitting on the shelf next to the stacked coffee mugs. It’s acting like the world’s slowest strobe light right now, phasing back and forth between light and dark.

Dean is distracted by it for all of a second before he shrugs and shakes his head. “He didn’t even contact me to say he was leaving. I learned from _Sam_ , and I can’t get a hold of Cas or Gabriel at all.” To prove it to her, he pulls his phone from his pocket and shows Anna what a stalker he is. “See? All of them go straight to voicemail. And I’m pretty sure that my text messages are going unread too.”

Naomi does glance up from her study of the register to look at the phone too when Anna leans forward to see. There’s something the way her eyebrow twitches that makes Dean think she may or may not know more than she’s letting on. He tilts the phone at her. “You know anything about the situation?”

She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. I have never actually met either of the Novaks. I’m from a temp agency and I was given the order today to come here.” She pulls a paper from her pocket, unfolds it, and passes it to Dean.

It definitely _looks_ like a work order, as far as he can tell. Dean isn’t exactly an expert in temp agency order forms, but it looks official. It has the café’s address on it with the instructions of one person to work the front counter from nine o’clock in the morning to five o’clock in the afternoon. The only suspicious thing about it is the two signatures at the bottom of it. If Cas and Gabriel had to take off so quickly, how did they sign something like this?

The only plausible explanation that Dean can come up with is that they must have stopped at the agency to place the order on their way to wherever they’re going. While he _could_ question Naomi about it, he knows better. Anna is standing right next to Naomi and she’s a Fae. The Fae function on an entirely different level than pretty much any Creature or Human to ever exist. If she – or Balthazar – sensed anything _off_ about Naomi, she wouldn’t still be here.

“Well, guess that settles that.” Dean shrugs and hands the paper back. “Don’t meant to sound rude or anything, but I hope you’re not going to be sticking around for too long.”

That actually makes her crack a smile. “Don’t worry. I understand.” Naomi folds it up and puts it back in her pocket. She frowns down at the register again and glances at Anna. “I believe I have a handle on the register. Can we move on to the coffee machines now?”

“Yeah, sure.” Anna shrugs, but she gives Dean a hopeless look. “Hey, if you want to go in the back and talk to Jess and Balthazar, go on ahead.”

“Thanks.” Dean gives her a two-fingered salute before he starts around the edge of the counter. “I’ll check with them if they’re okay about me going upstairs. I want to check out the apartment just in case Cas might have left me something.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “I don’t see a problem with that, but you’d definitely better check with them first before doing that.”

Naomi turns and watches Dean head to the back. There’s a calculating look in her eyes, but he ignores it. Instead, he plasters a smile on his face and gives her a wave. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She nods and her smile is just as professional as any barista.

Dean puts her out of his head as he heads into the kitchen. “Hey guys. How’s it going?”

Both of them look up, but Balthazar only sighs. “I knew you were going to show up eventually.”

Jess at least actually stands up to hug him. She gives him a small smile that feels like it’s more pity than anything else. “Let me guess; you’re not having any luck contacting them either, are you?”

“Not even a little bit.” He shakes his head and leans against the edge of the work top as she sits down again. “What are you guys up to?”

Balthazar taps the laptop with one hand and props his cheek on the fist of the other. “Our good friend Gabriel left us a walkthrough on how to run the payroll and accounting software.” He sighs and turns a withering look on Dean. “We’ve been teaching ourselves all day on how to use it since we’re going to be in charge. If we mess up, nobody gets paid properly.”

“And this is _way_ harder than anything I’ve ever had to do before.” Jess groans and runs her hands through her hair. She looks more agitated than Dean has ever seen her before. “I’m _shit_ with numbers you guys. I’d rather make a Croquembouche than learn how to do _payroll_.”

Dean is surprisingly good with numbers, but he still wouldn’t want to have that kind of responsibility on him. Bobby is the same way, and that’s why he dumped all of that on Dean’s Mom. He totally understands where the two of them are coming from, considering that it was never really part of their original job description. Although Sam did mention that Jess said that her stepping in was always an option when she was hired.

Speaking of hiring. He leans forward and drops his voice into a whisper. “What’s up with the Naomi lady, huh? Is she really from a temp agency?”

Jess throws a glances towards the front where Naomi and Anna are out of sight, presumably at the coffee machine. She shrugs when she turns back to Dean. “No idea. She showed up an hour after the bosses weft with that work order. I was ready to send her away, but _this_ guy –” She jerks her thumb at Balthazar and he promptly sticks his tongue at her in response. “He told me that Gabriel told him that he would be sending someone to help cover the front end portion of my shift. Now that I’m doing my work _and_ Gabriel’s, things are going to get a little stressful around her.”

After a long pause, Jess takes a deep breath and rubs her hands over his face. “I have no idea what’s going on and I am _not_ prepared for this like I thought I was.”

Balthazar pats her on the shoulder, but he doesn’t look half as broken up Cas and Gabriel being gone as Jess does. Shouldn’t his wings be wrinkled about more than just having to learn about payroll? It’s hard for Dean to gauge because Fae are so damn good at masking their emotions. Maybe this _is_ him being upset about everything? Or maybe he knows more than he’s letting on? Cas did once say that Balthazar was really good friends with his brother. Is it possible that he might know about the whole Gargoyle situation? Is that something Fae can see through?

Oh Jesus, there are so many questions and the only person Dean actually wants to ask them to is gone. He could _try_ and ask Balthazar, but in doing so he might accidentally give away more information than he should. There’s always the possibility that despite being a Fae, Balthazar doesn’t actually know a damn thing about what’s going on. And if Dean opens his big dumb mouth, he could give away Cas’s secret and that’s something he promised he would take to his grave.

Executive decision time. As much as Dean hates not knowing, he’s going to keep his lips zipped on this whole thing. Better to not know and keep Cas’s secret than accidentally spill the beans. Which is so fucking _annoying_ because Dean is practically vibrating in place with the need to know what everyone else knows. It sucks so hard that he’s not going to know anything about _anything_ until Cas comes back and explains it all to him. If he comes back at all, that is. And thinking that just makes him feel queasy.

It’s time to remove himself from this and he gestures towards the stairs. “Is it cool if I check things out upstairs? Anna said I could, but since you guys are the bosses for the time being, I figured that I should check with you too.”

Jess looks up from the laptop and glances at the stairs. She shrugs and looks down again. “I don’t know if Cas left you anything, but you can go ahead and take a look.”

Balthazar nods in agreement, and he pulls a key from his pocket. He slides it across the worktop to Dean; little donut with sprinkles keychain and all. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, guys.” Dean snatches up the key and gives them both thumbs up.

He’s three steps up when another strobing crystal ball catches his eye. It’s sitting on top of the employee hutch where their time punch machine is resting with a bunch of other stuff. Dean stops and stares. Of course he’s always noticed them both in the café and in Cas’s apartment, but he never really thought much about it. In fact, Dean always thought they were just there for decoration. Like the cranes Cas folded, or the plants he has all over the café.

“Either of you know what’s up with that?” Dean turns and points at the crystal ball.

Both of them turn around, but Balthazar merely shrugs and turns back to the laptop. Jess makes a helpless gesture. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice that it was doing that. I think Gabriel set it off as a reminder that he’s gone.”

That sounds like something Gabriel would do, but maybe it’s just the situation making Dean suspicious of fucking _everything_. This is just going to lead to wanting to ask more questions, so he makes the wise decision to drop it all again. He heads upstairs and makes a mental note to ask Cas about the crystal balls when he comes back – _if_ he comes back.

Nope, that’s not a thought he wants to have right now. Dean puts it out of his head and skips looking at the apartment. Instead he goes all the way to the roof, hoping against hope that _maybe_ Cas is actually taking his stone sleep up here instead. But of course no one is there. The only things up on the roof are the empty plant troughs and a stack of pots that Cas brought up because he’s waiting for the first perfect day of Spring to get started on his garden.

Dean knows all about that because it was legit just last night that they were texting about that. He even had a little breakdown over how adorable it was that Cas was getting so worked about his garden. Because he was so looking forward to planting this year’s garden, Dean knows for a fact that this wasn’t a planned ‘ _vacation_ ’ in the slightest. In fact, they had even made a standing date for it. Cas _wanted_ him to come over and help plant the garden. Sure, it would have been in the middle of the night, but it would have been a fun way to spend time together.

See? Cas was making _plans_ with him. Who makes plans if they’re going to up and leave forever? Yes, it was an unexpected trip, but that doesn’t mean forever. Dean has to think on the _positive_ here. Even if something like a _family emergency_ is so obviously a lie to him. They don’t have any family and God, but Dean hopes something else really did just come up and that Witches aren’t involved with this even just a little bit. All he can do is hope that they come back eventually – and sooner rather than later.

Dean tries his best not to linger on the rooftop very long, but he does spend a little bit too much time staring at the pedestal under the metal pergola where the statue used to be. The fact that it’s gone only convinces him all the more that Cas really is a Gargoyle. Of course he didn’t have many doubts after everything that has happened, but it’s nice to have some kind of confirmation.

When he moves back downstairs to check the apartment, the crystal balls they have in every room are glowing too. Dean frowns at each of them, just as much as he does the empty room. He had his hopes up that Cas would have left a note for him, but there’s nothing. An extensive search of the apartment doesn’t even bring up their cell phones. If he had found those, then at least it would have explained why neither of the Novak brothers are answering the damn things.

The only thing Dean does find, aside from the weird flashing crystal balls, is – well – nothing of note. All of Cas’s plants are lined up in the living room, which is exactly where he last remembered them being. Even Harold, Cas’s most favourite of cactuses, has the most prestigious of positions on the side table in front of the window. All of the curtains are still drawn and Dean opens them so the plants can actually get the sunlight they need.

Without Cas around, someone is going to have to take care of these guys. It could be anywhere from days to weeks to maybe even _months_ before he gets back. Dean isn’t going to consider the possibility that Cas might be gone for _years_ or even forever. He promptly doesn’t think about it, but he does pull out his phone to take pictures of each of the plants. If Jo isn’t able to tell him what kind of watering schedule they need, then he can at least Google it.

Dean does have _some_ idea of how to take care of some house plants, but not all of these are indoor plants. In fact, most of these are ones that Cas brings in during the winter from his garden upstairs. They’re a far cry different from the half-dead things that Charlie brought with her when she moved in. If it wasn’t for Dean, every single one of those plants would be full-dead. Well, him _and_ Jo. He had them limping along until she moved in too and showed him how to take care of them properly.

Before he moves on to fully inspect Cas’s bedroom, Dean takes a moment to check how dry all the dirt is. They’re still pretty moist, so Cas must have watered them last night. He’ll come back in a few days to water them again. Just in case he might forget, Dean puts a reminder on his phone. It’s the least he could do for Cas while he’s gone.

There are no plants in either bedroom when Dean checks them. He doesn’t spent too long in Gabriel’s room since it pretty much looks entirely spotless. It’s Cas’s bedroom where things get _really_ interesting. For starters, Dean notices right away that all of the origami are gone from the top of the bookcase next to the door. That’s not all, either. Some of the books that he’s always considered to be a staple in the room are missing too.

Anything that Dean might have thought was important to Cas is gone. Does that mean they’re not coming back anymore? The bed is unmade, like Cas just jumped right out of it. Though it might be a little weird, Dean makes the bed and tucks in the edges before he finished checking the rest of the room. Aside from a messy litter box, that he also cleans, there’s nothing that stands out. The only thing he finds in plain view – and he’s not going to go digging through drawers and closets – are Cas’s glasses. They’re sitting out on the bedside table. It must have been _really_ important that they get away as quickly as they could if Cas actually forgot his _glasses_ , of all things.

With a quiet, very much _defeated_ sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed. He picks up the glasses and turns them around in his hands a few times. This feels so fucking _surreal_. Dean doesn’t want to believe it and he puts the glasses aside to free up his hand. One he rubs over his face; the other he uses to pull his phone out to try calling Cas again – just in case. Of course it doesn’t go through and, again, goes right through to voicemail. The same song and dance that’s been going on for the last few hours, and Dean is already getting sick of it.

He tries Gabriel’s phone too as a last ditch effort while he looks around the room. It’s a slow turn, mentally cataloging what meager possessions Cas actually left behind. He left what wasn’t important to him. Does the radio silence mean that Dean isn’t important to him, or is there more going on here? Thinking like this is making him feel sick and it doesn’t help that he can’t stop himself from wondering whether or not Cas will ever see this room again.

_** ** _

**_Wednesday – April 6 th, 2016_ **

His hands won’t stop shaking from where they’re gripping Nike’s kennel tightly. She meows unhappily from inside of it, but that might be because he simply shoved her into it without a care for the claw marks on his forearms. They sting, but Castiel can’t feel them. Neither can he take his eyes off Gabriel’s crystal necklace. It hangs against his chest, flashing as slowly as the ones set up throughout at home – a home that is quickly falling behind them and one that Castiel isn’t sure he’ll ever see again.

When their necklaces stop their slow strobe, that’s when he’ll know for sure that they have left the Montpelier area completely. As a precaution when they first moved here, the Gabriel helped the FBI install a perimeter of crystals around the town. Those are linked to the FBI’s own surveillance, the ones that Castiel and Gabriel both wear, and the crystal balls in the café and their apartment. If any hint of demonic energies, or more specifically magic _powered_ by it, then the crystals would react and notify them that dark magic Witches are nearby.

Castiel never truly expected it to happen. He was always worried that it might, but his worst nightmares were brought to life again when the crystals woke him. Agents were dispatched to pick them up the moment the crystals went off and they came in a Taxi van specifically designed for Creatures who can’t go out in the sunlight. The back of the van has no windows and is blocked from the front seat by a wall. There is a window with a cover, but it remains closed during the day. On the inside of the van is a second door that protects the interior from sunlight while the transfer tunnel is being deployed.

While it is awkward and odd looking, the transfer tunnel is exactly as it sounds. It is constructed of a thick fabric with a stick edge that adheres to the inside of the door frame. The tunnel can be stretched several feet and the top is drawn tight by a winch to keep it from sagging while the van’s occupants try to enter or exit. The bottom of the tunnel is kept loose to make it easier to walk on. Otherwise they might have to slide the short distance from the floor of the fan to the ground and that would just be utterly ridiculous.

The agent sitting to Castiel’s right clears her throat, likely realizing that he’s zoned out again. Gabriel flinches too, clearly not listening either. As soon as they both look to her, the agent fixes them both with a frown. “I realize that this is a stressful time for the two of you, but I need you both to pay attention. At least for a little while, okay?”

Gabriel nods and he manages an apologetic look. Castiel is too numb for anything. “Sorry, Hannah. It’s been a hell of a day. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” She relaxes back in her seat with a smile. “As I was saying, we’re going to Burlington where we’re going to board a plane. I’m not telling you where the safe house is, but we’re going to have the two of you lie low there for a few weeks.”

“I’m guessing we’re not going to be allowed outside while we’re there?” Gabriel sighs and looks at where a window _should_ be in the wall of the van.

Hannah nods and her mouth draws up into a flat line. “I’m afraid so. While you’re hiding out, we’re going run an investigation to confirm whether or not there’s actually a threat.” She holds up a Ziploc bag with both their cell phones in it. “You’ll get new phones when you leave, and I mean you’ll either be heading home or off on a new life. And we’ll be sure to take care of selling the café so you get your money out of it to pass on back to you.”

That has Gabriel pulling an unhappier face than he already has. “You need to make sure our employees are taken care of. Cassie and I don’t care about the money as long as we’re not leaving everyone else high and dry.”

“Yes, yes.” She waves her hand as she tucks the cell phones away again. They’ve been turned off since they were turned over to her. “I promise everything will be taken care of and wrapped up in a neat little bow if we find there to be a reason for worry.”

Castiel has several questions, but he can’t get his mouth to work. His tongue feels just as numb as the rest of him. This is the first time since Canton where they’ve had to run for the lives. He wants to know if the information on their cell phones will be transferred to the new ones. The same can be said for their email accounts and their personal laptop that they also had to turn over. Jess and Balthazar were left with their spare laptop and a copy of the café’s files.

There are so many questions in his head and Castiel already knows half the answers. He knows that even if he asks, he still won’t be allowed to contact anyone from back home; not even if they end up having to leave forever. His text messages with Dean last night might very well be the last words that Castiel will ever exchange with him. To contact Dean after they’ve adopted a new life would be to put himself and Gabriel at risk. It might very well expose them and force them to run yet again. It really doesn’t help that Castiel has Dean’s number memorized.

Hannah pulls a folder from the briefcase sitting next to her and holds it out for Gabriel to take. “This is the agent that we’ll be placing in the café to monitor the situation in your absence. Naomi is mostly Human, but she has bit of the Fae in her. That’s going to help her in sensing any Witches that might show up at the café.”

Gabriel shows Castiel a picture, but he hardly notices. Hannah continues talking, though at this point she doesn’t seem to care whether they’re listening or not. “When she’s not on shift, she’ll be set up across the street with a sightline on the building to watch for anyone suspicious. We have cameras watching the back entrance and your Fae employees will fill in any other holes in our net that we might have.”

It was no coincidence that Gabriel went out of his way to befriend Balthazar and hire Anna. Granted, it _was_ sheer luck on their part that Balthazar was attending the local culinary school. In any case, they were prepared for a situation like this, but Castiel is still having difficulty coming to grips with the fact that this is actually happening. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that Hannah has to ask him a question a few times before it finally makes it through.

She actually taps him on the shoulder to get his attention. “And you’re sure that you haven’t told anyone about your – uh – _situation_?”

They both shake their heads, but Castiel stop with a sharp breath through his nose. “Actually –” He shares a look with Gabriel before glancing at Hannah. “Someone _did_ see me taking my stone sleep.”

Gabriel swears under his breath. “Shit. How did I forget about that?” He rubs a hand over his face and fixes Hannah with a grim look. “It was on just a few days ago. The fire station had to follow up on a report of a gasoline-like smell in the café. We figured out the problem, but one of the firemen went up on the roof and saw Cassie taking his sleep.”

“I need the name of the firefighter.” Hannah pulls out a notepad and starts jotting down some notes of her own. “I assume you know who it was?”

“Dean Winchester.” Castiel tries to say his name as if it were nothing, but it’s like a physical ache in his chest and it _hurts_. “He’s also my b– best friend.”

Hannah simply nods and quickly writes it down. “We’ll look into him. There’s a possibility that he might have leaked your secret.”

Even just _thinking_ that doesn’t sit well with him. The fact that she actually put it into works digs under his skin like each syllable is a splinter. A growl rumbles at the base of his throat and he turns an icy glare on her. “Dean did _not_ tell anyone.”

He believes that in his gut. Castiel knew that giving them Dean’s name meant they would do an investigation on him, but he’s is forcing himself to believe that this is just a horrible coincidence. If he doesn’t believe in Dean’s innocence in all of this, then that means he would have been betrayed by one of the closest people to him and – and his heart will break. It hurts too much already just from the mere _idea_ that he might never see Dean again. 

No. Castiel is going to cling to his trust in Dean until it’s wrenched from his hands. He hugs Nike’s kennel a little tighter against his chest in its place. Just the thought of it all is causing a painful lump to rise in his throat. It’s making it hard to breathe and being trapped in a van isn’t helping matters any. A bout of claustrophobia is brimming and Castiel squeezes his eyes shut to focus on his breathing instead. He’ll let Gabriel handle everything else while he tries to find his happy place and _not_ have a panic attack.

By some miracle, he hasn’t have a break down by the time they arrive at the airfield in Burlington. He’s certainly felt like it, but he’s done his best to stay calm. It helps that part way through the drive he put his fingers through Nike’s cage and focused on trying to pet her. She is still very unhappy, and very vocal about her unhappiness, at being in the carrier. Unfortunately for her, and for Castiel, they’re both going to be kept caged up – so to speak – for a while longer.

Their undercover Taxi van is currently parked inside an airplane hangar. Of course there are no windows in the building, but the air doesn’t smell as stuffy as that of the van. It helps Castiel relax marginally, but the tattooed wings on his back are aching. They always hurt more when he’s agitated, much as he is right now and will likely be for the rest of the day. Castiel has no idea where they’re going, but a small, windowless airplane is waiting for the in the hanger. God, what he wouldn’t do for a breath of fresh air.

Thankfully, he has Nike to distract him from everything else going on. This is going to be her first flight ever and Castiel is going to devote the entirety of the flight to keeping her calm. Hopefully she won’t be in need of a litter box until they land, because he’s not going to be able to deal with any accidents she might have while they’re in the air. Thus far, she _seems_ okay, but Castiel isn’t one of the Creatures that can understand animals. He has no idea what kind of distress she’s trying to convey with her meows.

Either way, he’s happy to have her with him. Nike and Gabriel are really the only constants that Castiel has in his life right now. His home, his job, his friends – they’re all up in the air right now, and the uncertainty regarding all of them makes him feel sick to his stomach. With any luck, he might be able to fall asleep on the flight to combat that. But he doesn’t know how long the flight is going to be, let alone where they’re going.

That particular information is being kept from them, and it irks Castiel only slightly. He knows that it’s being done for their own protection, but he doesn’t like being kept in the dark like this. Depending on the time of day when they land, they’ll probably be shuffled off into another closed Taxi van where they won’t be able to see any landmarks or signs that might give away where they are. Even if Castiel _did_ know where they were going, it’s not like he’ll be in contact with anyone to whom he could accidentally give away their location.

It’s yet another irritation under his skin that the only contact he will have with home is through a chain of agents. They will be staying with a handler in the safe house and anything they need to communicate to home will go through them. Their handler will pass it on until it reaches Naomi, the agent posted at the café. She will arrange for it to be given to Balthazar and Jess in such a way that it will seem as though it came directly from Castiel and Gabriel. At least that is what he has been led to believe will be the case.

Unfortunately, Naomi will only deliver messages to the café. Castiel already knows better than to ask if she’ll be able to take one to Dean. He didn’t have the chance to say goodbye, and that is a regret he will hold for the rest of his life – especially if he never gets to return home.

*

**_Friday – April 15 th, 2016_ **

Castiel doesn’t move when he hears his bedroom door open. He doesn’t even bother turning over when the edge of the bed dips behind his back. Nike, however, does lift her head and stand up from her spot curled against his chest – but only enough to see over his shoulder. She yawns and stretches before turning around a few times and settling down again.

“How long are you going to sulk in here, Cassie?” Gabriel touches his shoulder gently. “You can’t spend all your time lazing about in here.”

“And where exactly do you expect me to go?” Castiel twists to look over his shoulder and fixes him with a flat stare. “The living room? The kitchen? Your room? I only need my room and the bathroom.”

That only earns him a twisted frown. Gabriel crosses his arms and glares down at him. “Yeah? What about how you’ve barely been eating?”

He reaches over to pinch Castiel’s arm, as if in the last week he might have lost too much weight – as if that were even possible. Since he hasn’t been doing much of anything, he’s only been eating around one meal per night. It doesn’t help matters that Castiel doesn’t have any appetite, or the energy to do basically anything. In fact, the most that he’s been doing is sleeping and cuddling Nike.

Obviously he’s depressed, but there’s nothing he wants to do about it. He misses the café and their home. Castiel even misses their employees and their repeat customers. With _the Graveyard Shift_ closed during the evenings, he can’t help but wonder how that might upset the regulars – especially the ones who come from the fire or the police stations. Which leads him to thinking about one particular person from the fire station that he misses the most.

Since they first exchanged phone numbers, this is the longest that Castiel has ever gone without talking to Dean. He’s never had someone that he’s been _this_ close to before and there is a constant ache in his heart caused by it. Never in his life has he ever felt so _lonely_. If he had just kept to his resolve and refused to make friends or – or whatever it is that Dean is to him, then he wouldn’t feel like this. He would have been able to pack up and leave without looking back – just like he was _supposed_ to.

This is the worst and all Castiel wants is to go home.

Gabriel’s glare softens and he reaches out to pat Castiel on the shoulder again. “C’mon, Cassie. They’ve got Netflix here, y’know? Come check out some movies with me.”

Castiel shakes his head and turns over again. He pulls the blanket up over his shoulder from where it’s been laying around his waist. It puts Nike under the covers with him and she starts purring just a little louder. For some reason she seems to like it better when they cuddle under the blanket. Maybe it’s because this is warmer for her and cats are some kind of heat vacuum? In either case, Castiel isn’t going to complain. He’s happy to have her here.

After a few quiet moments, Gabriel gets up and leaves. He doesn’t shut the door behind him, which is just a _rude_ thing to do. Now if Castiel wants to maintain his privacy, he’s going to have to get out of his cocoon of comfort and close it himself. Maybe that was Gabriel’s intention in the first place, but it’s still utterly rude. No. Castiel isn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He’s going to stay right where he is, close his eyes, and try to force himself to fall asleep.

The only problem with that plan is that he’s been sleeping _too_ much lately. So much so that he actually has trouble sleeping when he’s supposed to. At this point, the only way he’s actually going to be able to sleep and _stay_ asleep is to open a window and get a face full of sunlight. But the tarps that were provided to him aren’t set up right now and he doesn’t want to leave pebbles and gravel all over the floor. That’s just something he would need to clean up eventually and he doesn’t have the energy for it.

For the few times that he’s taken the stone sleep over the last week, Gabriel has actually been the one to take the initiative and put the tarps up for him. Frankly, they should just leave them up all the time. That way Castiel can take _the sleep_ every day and not be kept awake by having to think about all the horrible things that he’s been trying _not_ to think about by sleeping. It’s a broken cycle that really isn’t working in the long run.

Of the many things that his mind simply _won’t_ let him forget, the worst thought is the one that considers whether or not Dean _might_ have betrayed him. While Castiel steadfastly tells himself that Dean would _never_ do that to him, he can’t help thinking; _what if_? That one shred of doubt he has haunts him completely, almost as much as his worry that if a Coven _did_ find them, then maybe they’re watching Dean right now.

A lump rises in his throat and Castiel brings his hands up to press his palms over his eyes. He takes several slow, deep breaths to try and quell a flare of panic. If Witches try and hurt Dean to lure him out, Castiel won’t know about it unless the FBI agents tell him about it. There’s always the possibility that they _won’t_ to try and keep him safe. He’s of a dying breed and they’re trying to preserve his species. The joke is on them, though. He’s in love with a _man_ , and neither science nor magic has progressed enough for men to get pregnant. Not that Castiel has dared to even think of things with Dean getting to the point where they would consider having a _family_ together.

Dear God, could his brain just _stop_ for once? Castiel hates all this uncertainty, but he hates the quiet thinking even more. He’s stuck in a limbo where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. Of course Castiel knows what possible courses this might take, but he hates not knowing _now_. It would make everything so much easier to deal with if he knew whether or not he would ever get to see Dean or his home ever again.

Castiel has no actual grasp of time as he tries to himself from thinking about the things he doesn’t want to think about. At some point he may or may not have dozed off for a little while, but it feels like forever and no time at all before Gabriel is barging back in the room. This time he doesn’t even knock. The door even bangs against the wall as he crosses the room. He drags the desk chair over to the side of the bed that Castiel is currently facing.

Gabriel sits down and places a laptop on the edge of the bed. Castiel watches over the edge of the blanket, squinting at him. That’s their handler’s laptop and, as far he knows, no one but the handler is supposed to be using it. Without a word, Gabriel opens the laptop and starts clicking around. They had the same model at home before they had to turn it over to the FBI and Castiel recognizes the sound of the email program being booted up, along with the sounds of _several_ emails being received.

A pleased grin spreads across Gabriel’s lips and he throws a few glances at him. After a few more clicks, an audio file starts to play. “First message. Received April 6th at 3:22 PM from –”

Castiel recognizes the robotic voicemail but, but it’s the number it lists off that has him sitting upright and sending Nike skittering across the bed with an unhappy meow. Gabriel’s smile only grows as the recording continues – this time in an all too familiar voice. “Hey, Cas. It’s just me. Sam called and said he heard about your family emergency. I hope everything is alright. Can you call me when you get this? Hopefully we’ll talk again soon.”

When the message ends, Gabriel clicks around a few times again. Within moments, the robotic voice starts speaking again. “Second message. Received April 6th at 8:04 PM from –” It rattles off Dean’s phone number again before playing the message. “Hey, Cas. It’s – uh – it’s me again. I guess you know what I’m calling about. Could you give me a shout when you get this? I hope everything’s okay.” There’s a few seconds of dead air before a sigh. “Bye?”

Gabriel sits back, clearly pleased with himself as he sits back and crosses his arms. He’s clearly waiting for something, and Castiel doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Except he’s too curious to resist. “How did you –?

“Unlike someone who’s spent the last week sulking, _I’ve_ been making friends.” That grin reaches truly ridiculous proportions and Gabriel reaches forward to turn the laptop around. “I asked our handler, Keith – in case you forgot his name – and he asked the tech guys to put this together for you. He’s even willing to let you borrow the laptop to listen the messages.”

Castiel drags the laptop into his lap and tilts the screen so he can see just how many emails were received. Each one has a voicemail attached to it. He counts them up while Gabriel continues talking. “Thanks to me, the tech guys are going to forward him all incoming network activity to our numbers. They’re going to send all incoming call logs, voicemails, and text messages for the _both_ of us.”

Yes, he can see that. Castiel has the call logs open this very moment and he can see that the vast majority of the calls that they would have received if they still had their phones have been from Dean’s number. In the last week there have been a couple phone calls from their employees, but everything else is Dean. It looks like he stopped calling Gabriel’s phone a few days since they left, but the activity to Castiel’s phone has continued _daily_.

“I know voicemails can’t substitute for the real thing, but I hope they’ll help.” Gabriel reaches over and pats the top of the screen. “Listen to them and stop moping, okay? Everything is going to be alright. This whole this is going to blow over in a few weeks and then we can go home.”

He stands up and pushes the desk chair back into place at the unused desk. Instead of leaving, he turns around and snaps his fingers. “Oh! Before I forget! The text messages are going to take a little longer to compile, but you should get those before morning.” Gabriel reaches over and ruffles his hair. “Is that good enough for now?”

Surprisingly, yes. Castiel can only nod as he leans over to get a pair of headphones out of the nightstand. There’s a smug air to Gabriel as he picks Nike up and leaves the room. He might be off to feed her, or to get her to watch all those Netflix movies with him. Whatever the case, Castiel can’t be bothered to care right now. He has voicemails to listen to and his hands are trembling just slightly while using the trackpad to open up the next email.

It doesn’t take too long, but Castiel sits and listens to every single voicemail, even as more emails arrive. In each message, the worry in Dean’s voice increases. He keeps asking if Castiel is okay, and asking for him to call back. Some of them mention how things are going at the café, or how much Dean misses getting coffee at night. They’re short, but it’s so nice to hear his voice that Castiel doesn’t really care what is actually said in the voicemail.

While it would be _very_ easy for him to use their handler’s e-mail account to send Dean a quick update, he knows that it would never reach him. Everything that gets sent from this laptop is first reviewed by the tech division. They would never allow any correspondence to anyone back home to get through. Despite that, the urge to contact him is _extreme_.

This no contact rule with anyone back home is only making things harder on Castiel. As far as he’s concerned, the FBI can’t complete their investigation fast enough. He’s more concerned for the safety of everyone else than he is his own at this point. The warning crystals went off and they have no idea why, even after a week. That doesn’t leave Castiel much hope that this could be a false alarm. If it was that, he would have expect that they would be home by now. How long could it possibly take to figure out whether or not Witches really _were_ zeroing in on his location?

Castiel starts replaying the messages and closes his eyes to focus on Dean’s voice over the bubble of doubts threatening to burst in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to think about how the FBI might end up selling off the café for them in a matter of weeks. He doesn’t want to think about how he might have to pick a new name soon, and that he might have to start witness protection all over again. While they did it before for ten years, Castiel is _not_ looking forward to having to do near daily check-ins with their handler again.

It’s been a few years since he gained his freedom – so to speak – and Castiel was really starting to like where they had settled down. Montpelier is such a nice, quiet town with beautiful outdoor spaces and a great community. Though, amusingly enough, Castiel never really ventured out into it all that often. He went for plenty of walks, but he never did interact with anyone outside of them coming in as customers to the café.

Dean was an exception. He was slowly peeling back the layers of Castiel’s shell. They were even reaching the point where he was starting to _enjoy_ himself with people. For the first time in forever, Castiel actually felt like he was _living_. If he doesn’t get to go back home, it’s very possible that he might never be like that again. Becoming so close to someone and then having to leave them like this is just too painful. He never wants to have to go through it again, even if that means cutting himself off from people like he did the last time he was in witness protection.

Castiel takes a deep breath and moves on to listening to more of other voicemails. Hearing Dean’s voice isn’t helping with his desire to hold his hand. He misses hearing Dean laugh, or the taste of his cooking. Because he had to run, he missed a dinner date they had planned for the weekend so they could continue watching the movie marathon they were working their way through. Now Castiel is possibly never going to get a chance to see the end of that, or even to try dressing up and give LARPing with Dean another go. Worst yet, he might never have the chance to work up the nerve and throw caution to the wind. Castiel will never get to tell Dean the truth, or – most importantly – about his feelings for him.

As he listens to the eleventh voicemail for the second time, a resolution starts to form. If this all turns out to be a false alarm and he gets to go home, then Castiel is going to take the leap. Regardless, he will tell Dean the truth about _everything_. He’ll tell Dean about being a Gargoyle and what happened to his parents. He’ll tell him about the Witches and his fear that anyone he loves might die because of him. Castiel will give Dean all the information he needs to make an informed decision of where they’re going to go from there.

It may only have been a week apart thus far, but the unknown future hurts too much. He has too many regrets where Dean is concerned and he needs proper closure before he can even think of being able to move on. Castiel needs him to know how he feels. He needs him to know the truth. Then, and only then, will he be able to move on – not that he truly wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Sunday – April 24 th, 2016_ **

The only time Dean really lets loose and feels a bit more like himself during this month from hell is when he’s standing in the middle of the Hubbard Park field with his foam sword raised to the sky. He takes a deep breath and leads the victory cry of the army he was in charge of training today. They rally with him and a dozen or so other warriors raise their own weapons to match him while they stand over the fallen soldiers they defeated.

Dean has really been pushing for more LARPing activities this month, and that’s why only half their numbers are here today. Normally they have closer to fifty people attending where they can split up into the usual two factions that they have; the legions of Moondoor and Solaria. Dean had _zero_ say in the names of their kingdoms and it irks him to this day. But everyone else seems to like them, so whatever. Either way, they’re not of any one kingdom today. Instead, they were simply training their combat skills because Dean has really been throwing himself into this to stop from thinking about anything else.

Since they didn’t have their full factions today, Dean and Charlie split the attendees right down the middle. They both have a mix of the kingdoms to make it fair and then they spent a few hours privately training and organizing their own teams. Since then, they’ve done nothing but have skirmishes and Dean is going to lord it over his Queen _forever_ that his team has won three out of three fights. It feels fantastic to know he’s a better strategist than Charlie and he’s never going to let her forget it.

And that’s a very good thing, actually. She wanted him to prove that lately considering that he’s going to be temporarily in charge of her kingdom if everything goes according to plan. Since Dean doesn’t want to spend all his time thinking about how much he misses a certain blue-eyed barista, he’s really been throwing himself into planning a week long LARP event that he wants to hold during the summer. The difference between this event and ones they have in the past is that this one is going to have some scripted scenes that are going to be _awesome_.

Currently there is a poll open in the online group to find a week that would work best for everyone. Even if people can only attend half the time or in the evenings, it could still work. He’s trying to work that into his storyline to account for it, if needed. Hopefully everyone will be able to make it, because this is going to be fucking sweet. Charlie even signed off on one of the major details, and she did it with the biggest goddamn grin on her face when he told her about it.

Essentially, Moondoor and Solaria have been at war for just about forever. In an attempt to gain the upper hand in the war, the Solarites are going to invade Moondoor in the middle of the night. After defeating both the Queen and her guards, they’re going to kidnap her back to the Solaria capital – which is basically one of the meadows hidden in Hubbard Park’s forest where they’re going to set up camp. With their Queen kidnapped, Dean is going to take command of the army and attempt a rescue of their Queen and assassination of the Solarite King.

Dean’s plotting for it to take at least a week to carry out. Because first and foremost, the Solarites actually have to pull off the kidnapping without alerting any of the Moondoor camp while doing it. Charlie will put up a fight, but she’s been instructed to lose in the end. Once there’s a successful kidnapping, then Dean and the Moondoorian army get to retaliate with various attempts of vengeance. Of course Charlie is going to have her own part to play while she’s among the Solarites, and she’s super excited for it. Which is why she doesn’t want many details about the week Dean is planning. That would ruin the surprise.

Even the rest of their group is getting excited for the event, even if it’s a few months away. He wouldn’t be devoting as much time to it if people weren’t interested in it. Not only did they approve of an outlined event, but they’ve been encouraging Dean to go all out with it. This is the first time he’s ever plotted something like this and he’s kinda enjoying it. And, of course, it is an _excellent_ distraction. If he keeps himself busy writing and plotting and planning, then he doesn’t have the time to be worried about Cas’s situation.

That in and of itself is quite the feat because Dean is _constantly_ worried about that. It’s been almost a month and he _still_ hasn’t heard from Cas. There hasn’t been a phone call, voicemail, text message, or even an email. He hasn’t even considered that something might come by snail-mail, but even that has been letting him down. It’s nothing but bills and advertisements there. But at least looking in the mailbox doesn’t make him feel queasy like looking at his phone does. In fact, Dean has never been on his phone less than he has been in the last month.

Honestly, he feels sick whenever he thinks about anything having to do with Cas. And that’s where the distractions come in. Dean has his LARPing and the extra shifts at the station that he’s been picking up to fill most of his time. But there are times when his brain won’t cooperate while he’s off work, so he has to find other things to do. Which means his house has never been cleaner. He spring cleaned the _shit_ out of it and purged all the useless junk that they’ve accumulated over the years. This is how he’s coping and it’s better than other options.

Well, there’s that _and_ how he continues to call Cas and leave voicemails for him. And the text messages. Can’t forget the text messages. Dean texts and calls him almost on the daily at this point. If it’s not about how his plants are doing, then it’s about any interesting news from the café, or something he watched, listened to, or saw. Of course he tells Cas how much he misses him; how the coffee at the station tastes like shit compared to what they make at the café; and that he’s actually lost a little weight from not having Gabriel’s baking every other day.

Though he tries not to go overboard with it because he might come off a little bit like a stalker, Dean fails a bit on that front. He really does miss Cas, like, _a lot_. Having him just disappear like this has left this giant Cas-shaped hole in his life and he fucking _hates_ it. Dean doesn’t like feeling this sad and it’s driving him fucking _insane_. There are only so many ways he can deal with this feeling and he adamantly refuses to turn to alcohol – if only because his family and friends are watching him like goddamn hawks.

Liquor would be an _excellent_ way of handling this, as far as he’s concerned, but Mom has been _very_ firm about not using it as a coping mechanism. The moment Dean showed any hint of being depressed because his best friend and super-crush disappeared without a word, Sam went and ratted him out. Mom probably dropped everything to come over and try to help. And by that he means that she was _really_ nosy. She brought Dad with her and, between the two of them, drank all the booze that Dean had on hand. In fact, Dean had to drive them home afterwards.

The only booze in the house belongs to Charlie and Jo, and the two of them moved that shit to their bedrooms. They’re keeping an eye on him too and Dean kinda hates it. He knows for a fact that if he goes to buy more alcohol that his parents will just show up for an impromptu party again. So what if he wants to spend a weekend drunk? It’s just _one_ weekend. Can’t they let him have that? Man, you have one little depressive alcohol binge when your high school girlfriend breaks up with you and suddenly you’re marked for life. Granted, Charlie had gotten the booze for him by stealing it out of her parents’ liquor cabinet and they were both still in high school at the time.

So, yeah, that didn’t really go over too well. But just because Dean _has_ considered spending a weekend drunk just to get over Cas, then why not? He’s had a few beers here and there in the company of others, but those don’t really count. And he really shouldn’t try to get over Cas the same way he got over his last major relationship. As much as he might have wished for it, the two of them weren’t actually dating. They were just some friends who occasionally practice dated each other. The most they ever did together was dance and hold hands.

Throughout his entire school career, Dean has had friends move away. Be it across town, across state, or across the country – he’s lost touch with plenty of people. It always felt like the world was going to end, but he eventually got over it. When he was a kid, it usually happened pretty quickly. This whole thing with Cas being gone is so fucking different. That empty feeling hasn’t subsided in the least and Dean doesn’t know when it’s going to get better – if it ever does. LARPing and his job are all he has and he’s going to throw himself into both until Cas comes back or he manages to get over this.

And all that thought brings him right back to where he’s standing. The battle is won for the third time in arrow and his team is officially the victors. Once they lower their weapons, they immediate start helping the losing team to their feet. Some of them are already getting up, but others are like turtles on their backs; wearing too much armor to get up easily on their own. Charlie is already standing with her helmet under her arm and she’s glowering at him from across the field.

Dean helps people up as he makes his way over to her. As soon as he’s close enough, he reaches out to shake her hand. She squeezes it hard enough that it actually hurts. There’s a bite to her words, and it’s entirely because she hates to lose. “Good job, handmaiden.”

“You had some good formations, but you were lacking in actual tactics.” He shrugs and shakes his hand out. “And that’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?”

She crinkles her nose at him and sticks out her tongue. “You just know how I work and planned for it.”

“Oh damn, you caught me.” Dean puts both hands up, but he’s grinning like an idiot. “I may have done it a little bit.” He winks and she slaps him on the back as they turn to face their two teams, both sides milling together and chatting amongst themselves waiting to be told what’s going to happen next.

Charlie puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles loud enough to get their attention. Most people turn and she waves to get the attention of the rest. “Alright bitches, I think that’s a wrap!” She pauses and glances at Dean before looking out at everyone else. “Unless… Is there anyone who wants to have another go or are we good for the day?”

Everyone seems to murmur amongst themselves, but there’s no definitive answer from anyone. Dean rolls his eyes and pats Charlie on the shoulder. “I got this.” He raises his sword and everyone falls silent again. “Everyone who wants another round come stand behind us, otherwise stay where you are if you want to go home.” In a crowd, it’s usually the best way to determine who wants to do what.

There’s a little shuffling and more murmuring, but after a few moments the answer is clear. There’s _way_ more people still standing in place and less than half of them moved. Charlie takes over again with directing everyone to start packing up while Dean steps back to check his phone. It’s late afternoon and he’s still looking at a whole evening of nothing to do but put away their LARPing gear. He could try and convince Charlie to play some video games or something, but she’s probably going to go meet up with Gilda and leave Dean all on his lonesome.

God, he misses Cas. He doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts again and all those stupid _ideas_ of what might have happened to him. It’s really the worst way to spend his time, and Cas wouldn’t want him to be like this all the time. He’d want Dean to miss him a bit, but he’d probably want him to move on. He’d want him to keep living his life as if Cas was never here in the first place. That’s what Dean wants to do, eventually, but he’s not capable of that – at least not right now.

**_Monday – May 2 nd, 2016_ **

For the love of God, why does time have to pass so slowly? Dean is driving himself a little bit crazy watching the clock. He’s been finished with everything that he had to do for _ages_ now; his paperwork, fine-tuning his equipment, and cleaning just about everything he can get his hands on. Now he’s just sitting at the table watching the clock and waiting. And, as the last month has taught him, waiting is the absolutely fucking _worst_.

Dean’s knee is a blur under the table and he drums his fingers on the table top. Any moment now it’s going to be eight o’clock and he’ll be _free_ to take off for one of the best days of the year, in his opinion. Next to Christmas and his birthday, today is going to be fucking amazing. He’s so excited to leave and get started on the greatest day ever that he’s already taken care of the little things like greeting his parents when they came in ten minutes ago.

As soon as the clock strikes eight, Dean is out of his chair and out the door. He barely takes the time to say goodbye to his co-workers before he’s gone. Less than a minute later and he’s pulling out of the parking lot for a very particular destination. The drive to his parent’s house has never felt so long and Dean bounces in his seat the entire way. By the time he pulls into the parking lot, his face actually _hurts_ with how long he’s been grinning like a goddamn fool.

Bones is waiting at the door for him; tail wagging violently. The only thing that keeps him from barking excitedly is the treat Dean has in his palm. After years of living with this dog, he knows exactly how to get into the house without the warning barks going off. Since Bones knows the rumble of the Impala’s engine, he never gives more than a few cursory boofs. He used to bark whenever Dean walked into the house – right up until Dean started keeping treats in the car for just such an occasion as this. Being sneaky is  an _art form_.

After giving Bones a few good scratches, he leaves him to sneak up the stairs. Dean knows exactly where to step so the stairs don’t creak as he makes his way up to what used to be his childhood bedroom. When he moved out, Sam took it over because it was ten times bigger than his old room and it would have been just insane for him to stay in his tiny old room. His bed is in the main part of the room and he uses the sloped attic space as his ‘office space’. Because what teenager _doesn’t_ have an office space?

When Dean had the room, that was actually his chill area. He kept his desk for homework in his bedroom, and the attic space had bean bags, music, and a TV to play all his video games. Dean can’t even count how many hours and how many sleepover he and his best friend had in there. The movie marathons and video game competitions were stuff of legends. He would miss the past more if he wasn’t currently living with said best friend where they’re geeking out and doing the exact same things they did when they were growing up.

Dean finds Sam face down on his bed and snoring into his pillow like the dork that he is. His blanket is half thrown off, like it always is. It could be the dead of winter or the dead of summer, that blanket will get kicked off during the night no matter how much of a cocoon he makes himself while falling asleep. As quietly as he can, Dean picks his way across the mess of clothes and books on the floor all while cycling through the songs on his phone. There’s one he keeps particularly for days like today and he needs to have it at the ready.

With the volume turned to maximum, he crouches at the edge of Sam’s bed and presses play. The happy birthday some from _The Emperor’s New Groove_ starts blasting and Sam is on his knees in a heartbeat; eyes wide and hair in all directions. Dean cackles and reaches out to pull him into an under the arm hug. It turns out to be more noogie than hug, but that’s what big brothers are for. Sam’s nonsense swearing gets drowned out by the song as it plays on repeat and Dean sings along to it, all while ignoring Sam’s attempts to extract himself from the ‘hug’.

Of course he succeeds in the end, but it’s only because his gracious big brother allows it. Sam retreats to the corner of the bed and holds his pillow between the two of them, as if that’s even remotely a decent shield. “Fun fact: I’m supposed to be allowed to _sleep in_ on my birthday, you asshole.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting the _big brother_ clause.” Dean tsks at him and shakes his head. “You only get to sleep in on birthdays where I’m not here to treat you to breakfast.” He grins at how the mention of food makes Sam straighten up a little. “Now you get to decide. Either I make breakfast here, or I take you somewhere to stuff your gullet with all you can eat. But you need to make your decision fact because I’ve only got so much energy left in me before I need to sleep for at _least_ five hours.”

Sam rolls his eyes and winds up to smack him with the pillow. “How about first off you go and take a shower. You _stink_.”

Yeah, probably. He smacks the pillow away and stands up. “That was my plan anyways. I’m definitely going to shower while you make up your mind. After that, it’s _breakfast time_.”

“Okay.” With a yawn, Sam slides down to curl up again; even going so far to draw the blanket back up over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna – yeah.”

Aw! He’s so _adorable_. Dean ruffles Sam’s hair before stepping back. “Yeah, yeah. You snooze it up if you want to. You’ve got like fifteen minutes before I’m done showering.”

There’s a hum from under the blankets, but that’s about the only answer he gets. Dean takes one step after turning away before he turns back. “Oh, by the way. This is for you.” He pulls a card from his inside pocket and tosses it onto the bed. “Here. Happy Birthday.”

Sam pops up in an instant, grinning like an idiot as he rips the envelope open. It’s just a silly monkey dancing on the front of the card that plays the Happy Birthday song when opened. Dean had looked long and hard for something with a moose or Sasquatch on it, but he never did find one. This made him laugh in the store, so it made the cut. Sam snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes at the handmade _free breakfast_ coupon that he had put in the card.

“Thanks, Dean.” He flashes him a smile as he props it up on his bedside table.

“And, in case you’re going to be all disappointed that I’m being cheap with the coupon or something, I _did_ get you an actual gift.” Dean outright grins at the little _shine_ that Sam gets in his eyes at the mention of a present. Even at nineteen he still loves getting presents – and, really, who doesn’t? “You’ll get that tonight when we have dinner with Mom and Dad.”

Though he tries to act all aloof about it, Sam is still clearly excited to be getting a gift. “You didn’t have to get me anything, y’know.”

“I know, but I did.” Because even when he was living on a dollar a chore budget, he still saved up so he could get his baby brother the best gifts he could afford. Dean shrugs it off and starts for the door. “I’ll be showered and changed in fifteen minutes, so you better have your mind made up by then.”

Sam flops back to his bed with a smile and gives Dean a double thumbs up as he snuggles up with his pillow again. Chances are, he’s not going to go back to sleep again, but staying wrapped up in blankets is still better than actually getting up.

*

After making a breakfast of champions for the two of them, Dean takes a nap in the spare bedroom. If it wasn’t working his ass off overnight, then making that breakfast would have been enough to put him down for an hour or so – especially after eating it. They had ham, bacon, _and_ sausages with their pancakes, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. Dean even went extra and made some freshly squeezed pulp-free orange juice as a treat for the two of them. Sam likes the juice he makes over the store bought kind, because it’s all in the elbow grease.

Being extra with breakfast really helped knock Dean out. This morning marks one of the few times that he’s actually managed to get a decent sleep. The last month has been _hell_ and he hasn’t slept right since Cas disappeared. If it hasn’t been worry gnawing on his gut, then he’s been drowning in guilt wondering if his stupid internet search is the reason that Cas had to leave. Was it just a coincidence, or did he somehow set off some kind of web-trap by a black magic Coven out there?

Just because they’re magic users doesn’t mean that there aren’t any technophiles in their midst. Charlie is a magical-type Creature too and she’s the biggest techno-geek in the world. In fact, Dean has been tempted over the last few weeks to ask her if she can pull some computer magic and find out if his little search tipped anyone off. But if he did that, then she’ll probably see _what_ the search was about. That would be giving away Cas’s secret and there’s no way Dean is going to do that. 

Either way, if he ever finds out that _he_ is the reason for Cas leaving, he’s going to hate himself for the rest of his goddamn life.

Sam shakes Dean awake around four o’clock in the afternoon so he doesn’t sleep through the whole evening. Despite all the groaning and whining, Dean forces himself to get out of bed. He needs to stay awake for at least the next six hours or so to keep his sleeping rhythm more or less in check. Being awake is the worst, but at least he gets to spend the next few hours playing video games with Sam until they have to leave to meet their parents for dinner at a restaurant in town. The both of them should be done work already, but they’re apparently staying in town instead of coming home.

The only reason Dean lets Sam win at Mario Kart while they’re waiting is because it’s his birthday. That’s the _only_ reason, and not because Sam has clearly been practicing. It’s also not because Dean is suffering from major sleep-brain and clearly the Player Two controller is the shitty one. The birthday boy always gets to be Player One, otherwise Dean would never have allowed this atrocity to happen. Player One is his birthright as older brother and he _totally_ would have won if he was more awake and if he had the actual _good_ controller.

On the bright side, getting his ass completely and utterly whooped at Mario Kart is a good way to burn off a few hours. And Sam is also stupidly happy by the time they pack up and head out. He’s quite literally _bouncing_ in the passenger seat. Nineteen years old, but still acting like he’s nine; totally excited for his birthday.

“Do you think they left buying my present to the last minute? He buckles himself in and turns a suspicious squint on Dean. “And that’s why they’re meeting us there?”

All he can do is shrug as he starts backing out of the driveway. “Probably.”

“But they never leave something like this to the last minute.” Suspicious or not, Sam’s left knee is still bouncing a mile a minute and he can’t stop tapping his fingers on his thighs.

Dean shrugs again and starts down the street. “Maybe they forgot this time because _shut up_.” He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Sam. “I thought you didn’t _want_ any birthday gifts. What happened to _that_ , huh?”

In all honesty, he’s just trying to throw Sam off the scent. Mom and Dad already have Sam’s gift – and they’ve had it for a few weeks now. Dean knows because he left his own gift with them this morning when he saw them at the station. They’re going to bring it to dinner for him so Sam doesn’t get all _question-y_ like he always does when he sees the wrapping.

For this year, Dean bought some puzzle books that have stories woven throughout them and you unveil more of the story as you solve the puzzles by thinking outside the box. It kind of goes with the gift that their parents got from something called _The Mysterious Package Company_. Dean has no idea what it is, but it’s got some brain teaser type games and – yeah, it’s got something to do with puzzles too? All he knows is that it’s in line with what he bought and they’re all right up Sam’s alley.

He waits until they’re on Main Street and the café is within sight when he swears under his breath. “Oh, fuck. Sam, I’m sorry but I gotta stop at the café.”

“Why?” Sam frowns at him and his squint comes back with a vengeance.

“Because I stopped there this morning to water Cas’s plants and I forgot the sweater I packed for dinner tonight.” Dean shrugs and tries really hard to act like he’s not lying through his teeth. “You know, the one that mom likes?”

With a huff, Sam waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. One quick stop.”

He might _sound_ upset, but he certainly doesn’t look it. In fact, he sits up and starts to straighten all his clothes. Sam even goes so far as to fix his hair in the mirror. Dean tries really hard not to grin at how adorable he’s being. There’s no reason for Sam to come into the café with him when all he’s grabbing is a sweater, but it’s going to happen anyways and that’s going to play right into his hands. Of course he’s going to come into the café.

Now that Jess is more or less in charge of the café, she’s been working late almost every afternoon to work on the accounting. Balthazar comes in early too and does it before his shift most days too. Working late is the exact excuse Jess gave as to why she wouldn’t be able to come to the birthday dinner tonight. She was most definitely invited and that’s what’s so goddamn _cute_ about all this. Dean wouldn’t ever admit that out loud, though.

The way Sam and Jess flirt is almost enough to make him sick. They’re super adorable together, and Dean is super happy to see how gaga Sam is about someone. Jess and Sam have been more or less dating exclusively for – How many weeks now? As far as he knows, Sam hasn’t actually referred to Jess as his girlfriend and vice versa, but it’s only a matter of time now. They’re unofficially official and it’s fucking cute. Well, except for the times when Dean walks into the back of the café to go up to the apartment only to find the two of them making out next to the freezer or something. Yeah, now he absolutely announces himself _before_ going into the kitchen.

Dean pulls into a free parking spot across the street from the café. As soon as they’re stopped, Sam’s phone starts buzzing almost immediately. That’s definitely planned and it’s what keeps him distracted as they get out of the car and cross the street. It’s a good thing too, because otherwise Sam would have noticed all the people and the decorations waiting inside for him. He’s too busy grinning at his phone to even pick up on the surprise until it’s being shouted in his face as Dean holds the door open for him.

Sam jumps and very nearly drops his phone as everyone cheers and claps for him. The crowd consists of all the Winchester parental units, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Charlie, the café staff, and the vast majority of Sam’s friends from high school. Them and whichever customers happened to luck out with their timing to be here right now. Only two people are missing from what is about to turn into a heck of a party. Dean purposefully doesn’t let himself think about Cas and Gabe’s absence.

To distract himself, he rescues Sam’s phone before it drops to the floor because he very suddenly has an armful of Jess. She laughs and hugs him tightly before planting a kiss on his cheek. “You didn’t even know! You didn’t even have a _clue_!”

All Sam can do is sputter and blush as he glances around. He probably notices that there’s a small pile of gifts sitting on the counter behind the display case. It was the perfect place to keep them out of reach from the customers and other party-goers. The only thing in reach of them are cups and bottles of pop for people to help themselves too, and a big slab cake that Jess made. The tables are still out with chips and dip, because this isn’t a dance type party, yet. That’s going to move to the house later on. But there _are_ birthday decorations literally everywhere.

Even though Jess wanted to make the cake for free as her contribution to the party, Dean’s parents still insisted on paying the café for it. Technically speaking, she used café stuff for it so it felt right. Jess’s actual contribution to the party is providing the space for it. Customers are welcome to stay and have a slice of free cake if they want to and coffee is discounted for everyone. It’s really not that much different from how Gabriel’s birthday was a month ago, or the Halloween party before that.

Either way, this is going to be an excellent party. It had better be, because Dean is sure as hell going to use this as another thing to take his mind off the two people missing from this party and the one month anniversary of them leaving. It’s only a few days away and he is _not_ looking forward to it.

_** ** _

**_Tuesday – April 26 th, 2016_ **

Castiel leans against the window frame and presses his faces to the screen. He’s on the third floor of a building that he’s never seen the outside of. There’s nothing but a stupidly tall brick wall facing his window and a dirty alley to look down into. The wall is so tall that he would have to take the screen off his window and lean out to be able to see the sky. In all the time that they’ve been staying here, Castiel hasn’t seen or heard a single person go down the alley. He can’t even hear the street. It’s been nothing but the wind and the occasional rustle of a bag from a trash can below.

There’s an itch in his feathers and his wings shuffle uncomfortably against his back. Castiel misses the open air and there’s something _primal_ within him that hates not being able to see the sky. It’s been more than a week now since he had Gabriel release his wings and he’s not bothering to put them away. They’ve been aching too much for that. Castiel and his wings are the only ones here who actually hate being stuck inside for too long.

His feathers fluff in surprise when there’s a knock at the door. Gabriel lets himself in without waiting for an answer. “Sorry, Cassie. It’s a no go.” He immediately turns and flops backwards onto the bed, doing it gently enough so he doesn’t disturb Nike from her spot where she’s curled up on the pillows. “Keith says his bosses say that they don’t want to risk us going outside until they’re one hundred percent positive that this whole thing was a false alarm.”

Castiel’s feathers rustle again, very much annoyed as he turns from the window. It’s his best access to fresh air, but the silence outside of it is unsettling. This whole place gets under his skin. Despite being a very nice three bedroom condo, he hates it. He hates it all the more that he doesn’t know where they are or how long he’s to be trapped here. Once they were loaded onto the plane in Burlington, they flew to this location, disembarked in another closed hanger into yet another closed taxi van, and were shuffled off to this – whatever it is. Apartment block? FBI office building? It could be _anything_ , but he wouldn’t know because no one tells him anything.

They’ve been here near a month now and neither Castiel nor Gabriel have been allowed to actually leave the apartment. He hasn’t stepped foot into the hallways since they got here and he _hates_ it. If he wanted to live his life in a cage, he would have just stayed in Florida and never left their apartment there. Castiel overcame his introversion. Not being allowed to go outside and do something is slowly but surely driving him up the wall.

“Do we at least have an update on the status of their investigation?” He starts pacing the room in the only form of exercise he can really get here – aside from the treadmill in the living room.

If their handler, Keith, is throwing around words like _false alarm_ then perhaps that’s what the rest of the FBI is starting to think. In that case, should they not be preparing to go home? Why are they still _trapped_ here? Feeling contained like this is almost worse than the anxiety he had before. It’s not fair that Keith gets to come and go whenever they need anything. Granted, he only leaves for a few minutes at a time, so Castiel is under the suspicion that he’s simply going downstairs to meet someone else who drops off their groceries for them.

Castiel might hate being here, but he doesn’t hate Keith. He’s a fairly laid back guy who looks absolutely _nothing_ like an FBI agent. That would probably be the reason why the FBI chose him to be their handler. He’s unassuming and they wouldn’t want any of the other building’s residents to find him suspicious. As far as Castiel can tell, there’s absolutely nothing suspicious about a man with a goatee, hair down to his shoulders, and wears board shorts with tank tops and sandals all the time. The way he dresses has led both Castiel and Gabriel to think that they’re somewhere in the South. This hunch is only corroborated by the warm breeze that comes through the window at times – which is at odds with what would be expected at this time of the year.

“I dunno, Cassie.” Gabriel shrugs and he reaches up to start scratching Nike behind the ears. “I haven’t asked about the _status of the investigation_.”

The mocking tone earns him a dark frown. Castiel slaps his knees as he walks past on his way to the door. If he’s not going to get any answers from Gabriel, then he’s going to go to the source – Keith. Ever since he was given access to Dean’s voicemails and the text messages, Castiel hasn’t been feeling quite as depressed or lonely as he was before. He’s still sad to a near staggering degree, but it’s much easier to cope with Dean’s absence when he can still hear his voice.

Now that Gabriel has actually used the words _false alarm_ , it’s given Castiel a modicum of hope. And it’s buoying his confidence enough to confront Keith about how much he hates being here. Essentially, he needs to learn more about the situation before he loses his mind. Since Gabriel can’t get the information he wants, then Castiel will have to get it himself.

He finds Keith standing at the kitchen island, putting together sandwiches for their lunches. It’s actually the middle of the night, but everyone in the apartment has been functioning on Castiel’s sleep schedule as part of an effort in making him feel more comfortable here. Otherwise he would feel even lonelier and force him into actually making a desperate bid for freedom by escaping out his bedroom window. He _has_ considered it on multiple occasions already.

“Hey, Castiel.” Keith tilts his head at him while screwing the lid back onto a jar of peanut butter. “What’re you feeling like for lunch? Ham and cheese, salami and mustard, or a good ol’ PB&J?”

Castiel wordlessly reaches over and snags the plate with two PB&J sandwiches on it. Each one is cut into four triangles and artfully arranged to stand up on one side of the plate in two neat little lines. The other side of the plate is covered in a handful of baby carrots and a dollop of what he suspects to be ranch sauce. It’s really the only acceptable dressing to dip one’s carrots into, as far as Castiel is concerned.

Keith flashes him a lopsided grin while he finishes up with the other two plates. “How are you feelin’ today? Still mopey or you ready to try playing some Rock Band with me and your big bro?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” He takes his plate to the dining table and turns a chair around so he can sit with the back of it against his chest. It’s easier on his wings that way. “I am wondering, however, if you have any updates on the investigation back home?”

There is definitely a pause in Keith’s step as he starts putting all his ingredients away. Castiel is purposefully forcing his wings to remain folded calmly against his back. They’re straining to puff and spread in a dominant display. He wants to know all the details regarding what is going on because this is _his_ life being affected. Gabriel seems to be plenty happy with just floating along and doing whatever the FBI wants – or whatever Castiel wants. At no point has he actually taken a stance on anything as of yet.

With a smile and a shake of his head, Keith takes both plates to the table. Rather than answering, he turns towards the bedrooms. “Lunch, Gabriel!”

“Coming!” Within seconds, Gabriel is trotting into the room with Nike at his heels. He takes one look at the sandwiches and snacks one of the plates. “I call dibs on the salami.”

“Your call, buddy.” Keith drops into the chair in front of the ham and cheese. He waits until both of them are seated before picking up a wedge of his sandwich. Castiel stares him down as he crunches on a carrot of his own, waiting for his answer. He goes through one whole quarter of a sandwich before looking between the two brothers. “Oh, okay. I’ll fill you in on what’s happening.”

“Thank you.” Though he was holding them back from spreading angrily, Castiel allows his wings to relax now and starts to actually enjoy their simple lunch.

“As you know, we have one of our agents – Naomi – stationed within the café as a temp you hired.” Keith explains as he eat, all manners out the window. “When she’s off the clock, so to speak, then she’s watching the café from across the street. If you remember, we put her on a standard nine to five shift so she could help across the board.”

Both Castiel and Gabriel nod along. That was always the plan they had arranged with the FBI for a situation like this. Of course they both know that the extremes they’re going to right now isn’t just to protect someone of an endangered species. This is the FBI’s change to catch someone that could lead them to a black magic coven. If they could take even just one coven down, it would hit the underground black magic market _hard_.

Keith continues talking around a mouthful of carrots. “Naomi is excellent at public relations and she’s been talking with the customers all day every day. Since we placed her there, she has confirmed on more than one occasion that Witches have entered the café.”

Against his will, Castiel’s wings spread wide in surprise. His blood turns to ice in his veins and he slowly lowers the wedge of sandwich he was about to eat. Why were Witches in the café? Gabriel and the FBI specifically suggested moving to Montpelier because there was a distinct _lack_ of Witch activity in that town. There was some in Burlington, but they were all registered magic users and there was no hint of black magic activity in the area.

Gabriel reaches out to place a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Before he can say anything, Keith clears his throat and continues. “Don’t worry, boys. Naomi and that Fae you left in charge can confirm that there was no demonic presence attached to any Witch that entered the café. In fact, they didn’t pick up on anyone even entering the town like that.”

“Then why did the crystals react?” The question is out of his mouth before he even realizes it.

“Good question.” Keith shrugs and rests his elbows on the table. “Could be that someone came close to the perimeter but didn’t actually pass through town. Or it could be that it was an apprentice to a dark coven. Y’know, an initiate who hasn’t made a deal with a Demon yet but their magic would still have a demonic taint to a minimal degree.”

Castiel frowns and looks down at his food, his mind quickly working through what that might me. It’s only a few seconds later when something else occurs to him. He looks up sharply and turns to Gabriel, eyes narrowed. “Balthazar is the Fae we left in charge. I wasn’t aware that he knew about the FBI presence in the café.”

Immediately, Gabriel looks away and shoves an entire quarter of his sandwich in his mouth. He ducks his head and focuses on chewing, as if that might save him. Of course it doesn’t. Castiel increases the intensity of his glare until he breaks and answers.

Eventually, a sheepish grin is turned his way. “Uh – so Keith already knows this, but – um – I may or may not have already told Balthazar everything about… everything.” Gabriel runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “I kinda spilled the beans in, like, the first few months that I knew him because he asked why you – a Gargoyle – were hiding your wings. That’s about when I came up with the contingency plan if we ever had to book it. Then I added Jess to it after.”

Well, that confirms what Castiel always suspected. Fae are Creatures of the _in between_. They can see through all manner of enchantments and glamours. He’s not surprised that Balthazar and Anna would be able to tell that he’s hidden his wings. Most Fae can tell with simply a glance exactly what kind of Creature someone could be. It’s all about reading auras and seeing the unseen. Castiel can’t even begin to understand how extraordinarily _unique_ the Fae really are.

Of course this also clears up a few other things. For instance, it explains why Gabriel already had so much of their contingency plan already in place when he suggested that they should have one for the café. It made sense that they needed one, but he had been a little surprised – but never suspicious, until this moment – that Gabriel already had it more or less figured out. There was very little to the plan that Castiel had to contribute.

It would have been nice to be included in the secret, and for that the gives Gabriel a smack with his wing before he turns to Keith. “Please go on.” There must be more information than this and he refuses to leave this table until he has it all.

Keith raises one eyebrow and glances between the two of them with a smile. “Well, from her conversations with the customers, Naomi has learned about a convention that was taking place in Montreal, Quebec. Y’know, up in _Canada_.”

Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out in a hiss. “ _Witch-con_.”

“Bingo.” Keith snaps his fingers and ends it by pointing at Gabriel. “Right on the money. Witch-con 2016.” He throws his head back with a laugh. “I even looked it up myself to confirm that it’s a real thing, believe it or not.”

“It is.” With a groan, Gabriel drops his head into his hand with a sharp slap. “I get emails about it from time to time because I checked that information box when we went and got our magic licenses. Witches from all over the world meet in a different location every year to showcase new spells, buy and sell ingredients and spell components, and have awareness panels about God knows what. It’s the biggest magic based event in North America.”

And that would explain why Castiel hasn’t heard of it. He doesn’t practice magic near as much as Gabriel does, and he pointedly remembers _not_ checking off that box on their application. If he’s ever filling out an application form, be it online or in person, he will _never_ check off the box to receive the newsletter or be contacted in the future with better promotions. Castiel hates junk mail and he’d rather avoid it if at all possible.

He nibbles on a carrot while he processes this new information. “This means that Witches were traveling through Montpelier on their way to Montreal? And it’s possible that some of them had demonic ties, so they set off our warning system when they passed through its perimeter?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying here.” Keith nods along while he polishes off the last of the food on his plate. “As far as Naomi and your Fae friend can tell, not a single hint of anyone or anything connected to Demon activity entered the café.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from Castiel’s shoulders. He even allows himself to feel a small sense of relief as he touches the crystal still hanging around his neck. “Everything is starting to make sense. The frequency of the strobing indicated either a weak demonic energy was nearby or a strong one was near the edges of the perimeter.”

“I’m leaning towards the latter on that one.” Keith brushes the hair back from his eyes before he stands to take his dish to the sink. “According to Naomi, the crystals only reacted for a day or two. Then they were quiet over the weekend while the convention was going on. They reacted again for a couple days after that as all the little Witches, Wizards, and Whatnot headed back home. There hasn’t been a peep from them since.”

Wait. Now _wait_ just a moment there. Gabriel sits forward sharply and Castiel’s wings snap out in surprise. His mouthful of PB &J keeps him from speaking, but Gabriel does it for him. “But that was _weeks_ ago! How come we can’t go back yet?”

Rather than continue chewing because that would take time and he has some _very_ angry questions. He swallows and it hurts the whole way down. It probably should have been chewed more, but Castiel is too upset for it right now. Except his time is now taken up with coughing violently because he _really_ should have chewed it completely. The rest of his plate is going to go forgotten. His appetite has vanished in the face of this news. It’s certainly starting to sound like it _was_ a false alarm, to a degree.

Keith seems entirely unfazed by their outburst. He starts running the water without even looking back. “Your little brother here is one of just a few hundred of his species left across the globe. He’s also one of our best chances at catching a dark coven. We’re not going to take any chances. Naomi and your Fae friend are on high alert at the café while we have others working around the clock behind the scenes.”

With a rasping gasp, and a few thumps to the chest, Castiel finally manages to start breathing again. “Behind the scenes doing _what_?”

“We’ve got Fae of our own moving throughout Montpelier and the surrounding area for any signs of demonic energy that might get them on the tail of a black magic Witch.” Keith turns around while wiping his hands on his shirt. “Plus we can’t forget our tech guys keeping their ears to the world wide web for any potential chatter. Those guys even made sure to scrub your friend’s searches, just in case.”

Castiel swallows around the ache in his throat and his wings fluff at the mention of Dean. “Did you – How much did you investigate into him?”

“Well _I_ didn’t do anything.” A grin slants across Keith’s lips as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “But the tech guys combed through his digital footprint. Aside from having watched a surprising amount of anime porn in his teens, he’s pretty much clean as a whistle.”

Gabriel snorts a laugh that very nearly sprays carrots across the table. Castiel, on the other hand, is trying very hard not to blush hard enough to bruise his cheeks. He has _no_ interest in knowing about what Dean does online in his personal time. If that’s something that they end up sharing in the future once they take their relationship to the next level, then Castiel wants to hear it from _him_.

Keith doesn’t bat an eyelash as he shakes a cigarette out of the box. “Yup, he’s a right upstanding citizen, that one. He’s even been watering your plants for you. Naomi swept the place after his first few visits, but she never found anything suspicious.”

“Like what?”

“Bugs, Cassie.” Gabriel reaches over to shove at his shoulder.

Once again, Keith snaps his fingers. This time he taps the side of his nose. “Exactly. No bugs of either kind, actually. Your buddy went and cleaned out your fridge of any spoilable food, took out the trash, vacuumed and swept. You name it, he did it.” He fixes Castiel with heavy-lidded eyes and a warm smile. “You’ve got yourself a good friend in that one.”

Castiel looks down at his abandoned sandwich and picks up one of the pieces. His appetite has returned and he’s trying very hard not to smile. “I know.”

He takes a bite as Gabriel launches into a new line of questioning focused on asking how the café is doing. Castiel listens with half an ear, slowly but surely finishing off his plate while he thinks about all that he’s learned in the last few minutes. There are still more questions he wants to ask, but he has to get his thoughts in order first. He is not usually an impulsive person. He has a lot to consider before he can pose the next question he has.

Once all their plates are empty and dripping dry in the dish rack, Castiel clears his throat and places himself in Keith’s path to the balcony off the living room. “Are we going to get to go home?”

After a moment where they stare each other done, he simply shrugs and shakes his head. “I don’t get to make that call. If the bosses think it’s safe enough for you to return, they’ll green light it. Until then, everything is up in the air.”

That was expected, but there is still a loophole. “But it’s ultimately still _our_ decision, is it not?” He looks between Keith and Gabriel, frowning slightly. “If they decide to relocate us for my protection, there’s still the chance that we can refuse it. Right?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but otherwise he has no other response. He does, however, glance at Keith to see _his_ reaction. With a sigh, Keith takes the cigarette out of his mouth. “Technically speaking; yes. If that’s what you’re gonna choose to do, you’re still have a handler and we’re gonna keep trying to find the coven that killed your parents in case they’re still trying to hunt you.” He fixes Castiel with an apologetic look. “It’s entirely up to you if you don’t want the protection a relocation would give you.”

“Well, I think that’s enough information for now.” Gabriel grabs Castiel by the elbow and forcibly starts turning him towards his bedroom. “There’s some stuff that me and my little bro here need to discuss. Immediately. Before I forget about what I want to talk to him about.”

Keith gives them a double thumbs up before he puts his cigarette back between his lips. “Sounds like a good plan. You two have a nice little chat and I’m gonna go have my post-meal smoke. If you need me, I’ll be out on the balcony.”

Before Castiel can say anything, Gabriel starts ushering him towards his room. All he manages is a thank you for their meal before they’re officially in a different room and Gabriel is shutting the bedroom door. Nike meows impatiently as she curls around Castiel’s ankles, very displeased that she was ignored during the entire meal because they couldn’t share their food with her. It just wasn’t cat-appropriate and since she waited so nicely, she can eat now. Castiel goes right to her dishes to open a can and feed her.

“Okay, so, I have a few notes on that conversation.” Gabriel drops onto the bed and Castiel can feel his stare burning into the back of his head. “Since when did you stop caring about your safety?”

“I never said I didn’t care.” Castiel shuffles his wings as he crouches to scoop wet food into the dishes while Nike is already trying to shove her face into it. “I just want all the information available to me before a decision is made.”

When he turns around again, Gabriel runs a hand over his face. He fixes Castiel with an annoyed squint. “It took you like _eight years_ to stop being too scared to leave our two bedroom apartment in Florida. Do you remember how many years it took you to even leave the damn _street_ we lived on?”

“I am _aware_.” Castiel grumbles, his wings fluffing defensively and curling over his shoulders slightly as he starts to pace the room. It took exactly as many years as it took Gabriel to learn the right spells needed for him to hide his wings. “I also know that I relaxed quite a bit after having ten years of safety. And, might I remind you, it was enough to travel back and forth across the _entire country_.”

“Yeah?” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “I also remember that it took me _months_ to convince you to go on that trip in the first place before we decided to settle somewhere. “Remember that?”

Oh good God, of course he had to bring that up. Castiel shoots him a dark glare. “If you’re going to dredge up the past, then please keep in mind just how much I’ve _grown_ in the time that we’ve been in Montpelier.”

“Hard to forget.” That makes him visibly soften. Gabriel nods as he leans back on his hands. “You work night shifts all by yourself. You deal with living breathing customers all on your own. You have _friends_. You got to clubs and parties.” He laughs and slants him an amused grin. “Who are you and what have you done with my little brother?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and turns away to hide his smile. He stops at the open window and leans against the ledge to press his face to the screen and breathe the fresh air. After a few deep breaths, he turns around again. “I want to go home, Gabriel.”

“Me too, kiddo. We’ve got the café to run and everything, and I’m getting _ridiculously_ bored here.” The bed creaks as he gets up and walks over to bump shoulders together. “But I just want to make sure that you understand the weight of your decision.”

“Of course I understand it.” And he’s absolutely _terrified_ of it. But if the FBI think that this was a false alarm, then who is he to disagree?

For a few minutes, they stands silent and look out at the brick wall opposite the window. Eventually, Gabriel sighs. “I just want to make sure that you’re not going to make a decision that puts your life, and mine, on the line for some _boy_.”

That’s toeing the ring and Castiel flares a wing to smack Gabriel in the side. It knocks him back a few steps. “I’m not going to make any decision until we know the final results of the investigation. If they truly believe that there’s something to be worried about, then I’ll take that into consideration.”

Gabriel snorts a laugh and slaps at his wing until it’s folded away again. “Fine, fine.” He stays out of reach, because he’s smart like that. “I’m going to go get me some goddamn cookies because I’m feeling the need to stress eat.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Castiel crosses his arms and leans against the window frame. “You’ve put on ten pounds since we got here.”

“And you’ve _lost_ ten pounds since we got here.” He fires back with a glare. “What’s your point?”

They stare each other down until Gabriel caves. He pats Castiel on the shoulder as he walks out; no further words needed. Castiel stays by the window for the time being, if only because the night air is cool compared to his bedroom. There’s a nice breeze blowing through the alley and he spreads his wings a few times to give them a bit of a stretch. It’s nothing like he wishes he could do in his rooftop garden back home. He takes a few deep breaths in another effort to center himself again.

He’s learned a lot in a short amount of time and he has quite a bit to think about now. Of course Gabriel is right too. Whatever decision Castiel makes can’t be based on his desires to see Dean again. This decision would affect _both_ their lives and he can’t be that selfish. He can’t do that to his brother. But this is something they’ll discuss again in the future when the investigation comes to an official end – especially after they hear what Keith’s bosses decide.

Until then, Castiel is going to be left with nothing but his thoughts, Nike, and the latest voicemails and text messages that Dean left for him over the last few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

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**_Thursday – May 12 th, 2016_ **

Days off are getting easier to handle, but Dean still hates having all this time on his hands. There’s only so much he can do before he’s left to sit and wonder what the fuck happened to Cas. It’s been _over_ a month now since he left and there hasn’t been a peep from him. According to Sam, which means according to Jess, the only people who are even vaguely in touch with Cas and Gabriel are Balthazar and Naomi, the temp. Even then, Balthazar said that he has almost no contact from them and Naomi gets her information from the agency.

If he wanted to be an ultra-creeper, then Dean could go to the temp agency and try and get them to give him Cas’s contact information. The chances of that working are slim to none, and Cas probably wouldn’t be happy about it. There’s gotta be a good reason that he went AWOL and Dean needs to respect that – which is something he’s still only kinda struggling with. He’s gone back and forth through the grief spectrum; spending a little more time on denial and anger more than anything depending on the time of day and how distracted he is or isn’t.

And today he’s managed to be at least slightly distracted. It’s been hard to fall asleep lately, but once he’s out – he’s _out_ for longer than entirely necessary. So after sleeping in pretty late this morning, he made lunch and he may have gone just a little bit overboard. Dean’s plans for the day didn’t really include walking into the station with a massive shopping bag full of Tupperware, set to feed everyone here but that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. He barbequed a couple dozen little hamburger slider patties that he then wrapped in bacon and baked/broiled them to crisp it up.

Since he made way too much for himself, and even too much for Jo and Charlie when they get home, he’s sharing the deliciousness. The sliders are served with a die of _homemade_ Mexican rice and a little bit of fiesta salad. They had an old bottle of spicy ranch dressing in the fridge that was going to go bad within the next month and he wanted to get rid of it. Salad is the food of the Devil and Dean only really ever ate it whenever Cas was around. The only good thing about a fiesta salad is the little crispy tortilla strips that gets sprinkled on top – and they had those in the cupboard because he just snacks on those on their own.

The first stop at the station is Becky at her desk. Dean gives her one container and enough time to put some dressing and tortilla strips on her salad. He heads upstairs to find that it’s apparently inspection day, because Bobby is in the middle of doing the monthly check on their fire extinguishers and testing the emergency lights.

“What are you doing here?” Bobby tucks a pen behind his ear and stares Dean down from under the brim of his baseball hat. “You’re not supposed to be on shift.”

“I’m not.” Dean shrugs and holds up his bag. “I come bearing gifts!”

Bobby raises and eyebrow at him as Dean brings to fingers to his mouth and whistles loudly around them to get the attention of everyone on the floor. Mom is in her office, but there are four others about. Jo and Nick are on the other side of the room putting away all the equipment that Bobby has been working through during his inspection while Charlie and Raphael are nowhere to be seen. They come out of the sleeping room with sheets in hand, most likely they were in the process of changing over all the bedding.

There are two maintenance guys on duty right now; Dad and Rufus. They’re both downstairs and Dean knows that Mom will call them both up to eat. He doesn’t have to go downstairs and get them both himself. Speaking of Mom, she more or less appears at his elbow while he’s unpacking the containers onto the little table they use for pretty much everything.

“What did you bring us, baby?” She gives his shoulders a squeeze.

Dean flashes her a grin. “Lunch.” He hands her one of the containers. “A late, but delicious _lunch_.” Considering that it’s just about three o’clock. “Actually, this might be more of a _supper_ for you, dad, and Rufus. You should take yours home and I’ll collect the containers tomorrow.”

Charlie shows up at his other elbow and she wraps him in a hug too. “You’re the _best_.” She snags up one of the containers and passes it off to Jo before grabbing another. “You sticking around to eat with us?”

“Nah, I already ate.” Dean pats his stomach. “Someone had to taste test it for you guys.” He steps away from the table to let them get at the dressing and everything. “I’ve got errands to run so I’m going to take off right away.”

Mom leans in to kiss him on the cheek before ruffling his hair and shoving him away. “Thanks, sweetie. Your dad and I will just take these to go, but thanks for saving us from having to cook dinner.”

And now he’s blushing. Aw man, did she _have_ to do that in front of the crew? It always makes Dean feel awkward and dorky when his Mom does that in front of his co-workers. In front of Charlie and Jo is fine because they’re roommates and practically family. Same goes for Bobby. But in front of Nick and Raphael? He’ll be teased for the next few days at the least because of it. Nick never misses a chance to be an ass – even more so since Dean hit it off better with Cas than he did.

Dean abandons his shopping bag on the couch because he has more of them in the trunk of the Impala. He trusts that Charlie and Jo will bring it home with all the containers. They ordered them special from Amazon because they’re divided into three sections and reduced the amount of containers they need to take for their meals by _so much_. Seriously. Dean donated like a dozen or more various stupid Tupperware containers because they never need them anymore.

“We have enough dressing for everyone? Good.” Dean pats his mom on the shoulder and kisses her on the cheek because not even Nick can tease about a guy for being nice to his mom. “I’ve gotta head out now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” And again on Sunday for their weekly family dinner.

Everyone else is way too into their food to really tell him goodbye, but Dean throws them a wave anyway and heads out. On the way back downstairs, he pulls out his phone to pop Cas a message about what he’s doing today. He did an inventory check on their pantry, fridge, and supply closet to see if they need anything, and he’s got a list typed up in his phone. This is a day for distractions, so he’s going to make the short drive to Berlin to go to Walmart for all that.

But first and foremost, he’s going to hit up _Trick or Treat_ on the other side of the street to get himself a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie. The great thing about having a little brother who is not only working at his favourite café, but also dating the current head baker means that Dean gets daily updates on the baked goods of the day. He’s going to go pick that up and eat it in Cas’s kitchen before he waters the plants.

Now that it’s May, Dean has seriously been considering taking all the plants up onto the roof. Spring has definitely sprung and most days Dean doesn’t even need the light jacket that his mom forced on him. It’s sunny and warming up nicely, which means that Cas would probably be moving his plants out into his garden around now. But what if he moves them up there for him and puts them in the wrong spots? Or he brings out a plant that was never meant for the roof? What if he _kills_ it?

Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle that Dean has managed to keep them all alive for this long. If it wasn’t for Jo, he probably would have killed them all within the first week. He took pictures of every single plant Cas owned and showed them to her for identification. That way he could look up a proper watering schedule for each one of them. Half the credit for how well they’re doing should go to her. It would have taken forever trying to search the different plants up on Google to learn about it without knowing their names to start with.

Aside from that, it just feels a little wrong to step on Cas’s toes or something by setting up the garden for him. Maybe he’ll do it if Cas isn’t back before June. Or July. Dean just doesn’t want his plants to stay cooped up all year long in the apartment. They were Cas’s babies before he picked Nike up. He loves – or should it be ­ _loved_? – his plants and takes such good care of them that he doesn’t want to fuck it up by _changing_ anything.

Even after more than a month of silence, Dean is stubbornly clinging to the hope that Cas and Gabriel will come back home eventually. He misses him _so_ fucking much.

Dean stomps down on that ache that fills his chest whenever he thinks about how long it’s been since Cas disappeared. He takes a deep breath and forces a smile as he heads into the café. Naomi and Tess are behind the counter this afternoon. Tessa is at the register, ringing up a customer while Naomi is at the corner of the counter by the window; looking out while she talks on her cell phone. Dean hasn’t really _connected_ with her over the last month and a half, but he likes to think that they’re on cool terms. At the least he’s reached the point where she actually gives him a wave when he walks in.

Tessa’s customer has moved to one of the tables by the time Dean reaches the counter. She takes one look at him and immediately takes the lid of the pie stand; already reaching for a plate. God, he loves being a customer at a place that _gets_ him. She flashes him a smile while plating a generously sized slice. “What’s the drink du jour for our favourite customer?”

That’s a very good question. Dean hums and looks up at the menu. It’s way too early for his usual, though he does get that little tickle of delight he always gets when he sees his name on the menu board. “Hm, I dunno. I’m kinda feeling a little _sweet_ today. I’m talking whipped cream and chocolate syrup sweet. Y’get me?”

“Are – are you thinking of, like, a hot chocolate?” She pauses and turns to glance up at the menu too, scanning it for something that might fit Dean’s ridiculously vague order.

He shrugs and starts patting at pockets to find his wallet. “Nah, I still crave the caffeine boost. Just give me something like a mocha frappuccino or whatever bullshit froo-froo thing is sweet. Surprise me.”

Tessa levels him with a flat look before slowly raising an eyebrow. “As long as it has whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and _isn’t_ a hot chocolate?”

“Yup.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but goes to make his drink without another word. Dean watches over the top of the display case. He’s not entirely sure what she puts in the cup, but she does finish filling it with whipped cream. Tessa does a criss-cross of chocolate syrup over top of it before snapping on a domed lid. This is the first time he’s ordered a drink like this that looks more like it belongs in a Starbucks than here. As long as it tastes good and gives him that _umph_ he needs, then he’s gonna be happy with it.

When she brings him his drink, she brings the can of whipped cream with her. Dean maybe falls a little bit in love with her when she does a perfectly swirled pile on top of his pie slice. Man, if Cas doesn’t come back, his employees might steal his heart from him.

“Here, give this a try.” She hands the drink over. “If it’s not for you, then you’re going to buy it for _me_ to have – with the employee discount – and I’ll make you something else.”

Dean snorts a laugh before taking a sip through the straw she poked into the mass of whipped cream. This, combined with the pie, might end up being too much sweetness for him. On its own, however, it’s exactly what he wanted. He gives her a thumbs up while going hollow-cheeked because the straw really is too thin for much more than that. “Gold star.”

“Damn.” Tessa fakes being disappointed. “Here I was, hoping for a free drink. Oh well!” She steps over to the register and start punching in his order. “How are you going to pay today?”

“Cash.” He hands over a ten dollar bill _and_ a handful of change that must make up a few extra dollars more than the actual total. “Keep the change.”

She gasps and flutters her eyelashes at him. “Thank you _so_ much, kind sir. I can finally afford the medication for my ailing sister!” With a laugh, Tessa drops everything into the register to count out the change before pocketing it. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder while closing the register. “I guess you’re going to head up now, huh?”

“If that’s alright with you?” And that’s code for if it’s safe to go into the kitchen. Sam and Jess are _both_ working right now and he’s walked in on them making out one too many times for his liking.

“Be my guest.” Tessa shrugs and comes around the counter, a cloth in hand. “Jess is working her butt off on an order of strawberry tortes for a big order being picked up later, and I think Sam is on dish duty right now. If you say ‘ _hi_ ’ to Jess, you might get a sample.”

Oh _fuck_ yes. “Thanks, Tessa. You’re a peach.” He flashes her a grin before taking his pie and his drink to the back. Just in case, he makes sure to loudly announce himself before actually going into the kitchen. “Big brother incoming! Any locked lips she get _unlocked_ right now.”

He’s greeting with Jess rolling his eyes and Sam glaring at him, his hands full of suds. If Dean wasn’t on the opposite side of the kitchen from him, he might have ended up a little damper than when he walked in. Luckily Jess looks too busy to waste much time with any reaction. She’s in the middle of carefully arranging chilled curls of chocolate and strawberries on top of rectangular slices of her tortes. Dean can see that they’re filled with cream and strawberry jam, and they’re already making his mouth water.

“I figured you would be stopping by.” Jess doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing as she slides a plate with a finished torte to the other side of the worktop. “I shouldn’t give this to you for that comment you just made, but I need a taste test from an unbiased source.”

“Guess you can’t trust Sammy, huh?” Dean drops onto one of the stools facing her and puts his pie aside for the time being. He wisely _doesn’t_ crack a joke about Sam saying whatever will make Jess happy because he’s trying to get into her pants. That’s so not what he would ever do, but it would be a funny joke anyways – at least to Dean. But he would risk losing the torte _and_ his pie, even if he actually paid for the latter.

Jess tilts a sly smile at him. “Absolutely. This is a taste test and not me just giving you a free torte.”

“I just want it to be said that if Sam doesn’t marry you, then I will wife you _so hard_.” That gets him an outraged huff from Sam and a laugh from Jess. She goes back to decorating while Dean finishes the torte in all of two bites.

It’s fluffy and just the right amount of moist. Sweet, tangy, and perfect. While it might not be absolutely necessary, he totally plays up a quiet moan. “Holy shit. This is awesome.”

“I know.” Jess flashes him a grin, her eyes dancing in delight. “You’re welcome to eat your pie down here too, instead of upstairs if you’d like. You just have to promise not to tease Sam _too_ much.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Dean pushes his plate aside and drags his pie over. “I’m a big brother hanging out with his little brother and his girlfriend. I’m contractually obligated to tease the ever loving _shit_ out of him.” He pauses to take his first bite of heaven, chewing it slowly and swallowing before continuing. “Though, there might be a clause in there that protects him while he’s at work.”

Sam turns around and sprays suds and water across the floor as he points dramatically. “Yes, there _is_ , so you had better _stop_.” The look he gives his full of a threat that Dean is _very_ familiar with. If he doesn’t ease up on him today, Sam is totally going to rat him out to their parents.

Dean holds up both hands in surrender before returning to his pie. He gets another few bites in before he stops to glance at the door to the front of the café. “Hey, I got a question for ya.”

“Mhmm?” Jess barely even glances up from adding some strawberries to one of the tortes.

“I thought Gabe and Cas didn’t like it when their employees took calls in front of the customers?” He gestures in the direction of the door to emphasize his question.

A frown tugs down the corners of Jess’s mouth. “They’re not _supposed_ to, but Balthazar gave Naomi permission to do it. Apparently she’s working on other jobs too and needs to keep in contact with the temp office on a fairly regular schedule.” She shrugs and gives Dean a long suffering look. “If you’ve worked with him for as long as I have, you learn to just accept whatever bullshit reasoning he throws at you for his decisions.”

Even though he hardly knows Balthazar at all, Dean totally understands. If it wasn’t because he’s a Fae, then it’s because he’s kinda a bastard sometimes.  He nods in understand and just about polishes off his pie when Jess stops what she’s doing. She glances at the door again before stepping to the side and leaning over the worktop where she doesn’t risk squishing any of her tortes.

Jess drops her voice into a whisper and even cups the side of her mouth to protect it from the door. “I overheard her on the phone the other day, actually.” Oh, fuck yes. Dean is a whore for gossip. He leans in too while shoving the last of his pie into his mouth. “I heard her mention something about _wrapping things_ up here. I think she’s going to be leaving soon.”

That makes his heart lurch almost painfully. His mouth goes dry and Dean can’t help glancing at the door again. “Y-yeah? You don’t think that means –?” He can’t bring himself to actually say it because that means getting his hopes up and they’re already starting to skyrocket.

It’s not helping him keep a level head that Jess’s eyes are practically shining with delight. She nods several times as she stands up again and returns to her tortes. “I think it does.”

Oh man. _Oh man_. Dean sits back and his knee starts bouncing. He doesn’t want to hope too much, but it’s really hard to keep his smile to a glow instead of all out sunshine at the mere idea that Cas might be coming back soon. If Naomi is leaving, then that means her services here are no longer required. They would no longer be required in the case that other hands are coming to fill her place, and God but Dean hopes that means the hands coming to help are Gabriel and Cas’s.

Now that his pie is done, Dean stands up and stacks the plates. He brings them over to Sam before going for the stairs. “I’ve gotta water Cas’s plants now.”

Jess winks at him, her grin still bright. “You do what you need to do there, buddy.”

Dean gives her a thumbs up before grabbing his drink and taking the stairs two at a time. He fishes the key out of his pocket to let himself in. When – not _if_ – Cas comes back, he’s probably going to have to return the key. That’ll be a little disappointing, but he pretty much knew – sorta _hoped_ – that would have to happen the moment that Balthazar cave it to him.

It’s been more than a week since he swept, so Dean uses the Swiffer Wet Jet they had hanging on the side of the kitchen pantry to clean all the floors. Everything is still pretty clean from the last time he gave the place a once over, but he goes all out again today – just in case they really do come home soon. He takes any mats and rugs up to the floor to shake them out, scrubs the toilets, wipes down every possible surface, and strips the beds. It might be a little weird, but he’ll take the pillowcases and sheets home to wash. It’ll be a small delight for them to come home to clean sheets.

Dean leaves those in a garbage bag by the door before he checks every kitchen cabinet for a glass bowl. He finds one tucked away in the cupboard above the fridge along with vases and other things they use for display stuff. A vase would work better for what he’s planning, but that requires a little more work than he’s planning to do. The bowl will work just fine. He puts that in the center of the kitchen table before heading off to rummage through Cas’s stuff.

There’s gotta be some around here, for how often Cas did origami. Sure enough, he finds an unopened pack of them tucked away on one of the shelves of the desk in the living room. Dean takes that back to the kitchen and sits down at the table. With the help of his phone, he looks up various different designs of flowers. He’ll have to pay Cas back for the paper he uses, but he folds a half dozen different kinds of flowers to fill the bowl with.

Instead of leaving the bowl in the kitchen, Dean takes it to Cas’s bedroom and puts it on the bedside table. It’s more of a welcome home gift for him than Gabriel anyways. He might be jumping the gun a little bit with this, but he’s excited to have gotten such excellent news. Of course he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he can’t help him. This is the first piece of _good_ news he’s had in a while, even if it’s entirely speculation. He’s been so _sad_ these last few weeks that he’s going to cling to these good feelings for as long as he can.

*

**_Tuesday – May 17 th, 2016_ **

It’s very rare that the night shift is actually _quiet_ the whole night through. This has been one of the most boring shift on record, and Dean’s lucky that he had a pack of origami paper on him to keep himself entertained. It helped keep both him _and_ Meg busy for half the night. There are six Saturdays between today and when Cas has been gone. Aside from those flowers that he folded last week, Dean hasn’t done _any_ of his usual Saturday gifts.

Technically, he could have taken the easy way out and just considered those part of it all. But the flowers are separate. Those are a _welcome home_ present. The Saturday origami is different. They’re _special_ and Dean hates himself a little bit for not having kept up on them just because Cas wasn’t around to accept them.

The first thing he folded – the thing that caught Meg’s attention – was a box. It wasn’t anything fancy; just a simple box with a lid. Meg actually sat down to join him when he took out a pair of scissors and cut one of the sheets of paper into strips. He loaned her the supplies so she could follow along with him, folding little stars to fill up the box he had made earlier. Normally Dean wouldn’t have allowed her to add her stars to it, but it did save him from having to fold more of them to actually fill the box like he was planning on doing.

While the stars are pretty easy to make, cutting the strips and then going slow enough to show Meg how to do it really ate up some time. Dean also folded a horse, an owl, a seated cat, and a seated dog. Meg  found everything but the horse too hard to do, so she gave up and focused more on creating a fortune teller and coming up with some super shitty fortunes for it. Quite literally. The one Dean got said that he would shit his pants before the end of the day. She has such a weird sense of humour.

Once the end of his shift finally comes around at eight o’clock, Dean carefully puts all of his origami in a plastic bag to take with him. He ditches his bunker pants and suspenders in his locker with the rest of his gear and takes his time saying goodbye to everyone. It’s a Tuesday morning and he’s really not in any kind of rush to get anywhere. First it’s across the street to check on Cas’s plants, and then it’s home to bed because a night where he does nothing has left him stupidly tired – which should make no sense, but with nothing to boost the adrenaline, he’s been tired for _hours_.

After spending the last twenty-four hours wearing his heavily insulated pants, Dean feels weirdly naked as he crosses the street in jeans and his station t-shirt. On the bright side, he definitely feels lighter. He jogs across the street to the café with the intent to put out the origami before he somehow accidentally ruins them, forgets them in the Impala, or something silly like that.

Balthazar is behind the counter when Dean walks in. He’s got his hands full of bagged bread that he’s sorting into baskets mounted on part of the wall. Since _The Graveyard Shift_ closes at eleven every evening, _Trick or Treat_ opens at seven o’clock every morning now. It breaks Dean’s heart every time he has to drive by at night and sees the café lights off.

For someone who’s just putting bread away, Balthazar’s wings are all sorts of perky and twitchy. He’s even got a special sparkle in his eyes when he turns around. That grin is _mighty_ suspicious as he leans against the counter. “And what can I get _you_ on this most _delightful_ of mornings?”

The overly pleasant tone catches Dean off guard and he stops short. “O-o-okay… First; you need to switch to decaf.” He starts digging some change out of his pocket. “Second; I’ll take a croissant, please. I’m just popping in to water the plants and leave something upstairs for Cas.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Balthazar’s wings start vibrating even faster. He slides Dean a look from the corner of his eye while pulling a croissant from the display case with a pair of tongs. “Oh? Do you know something I don’t?”

“Nah, I was just bored last night and made him some more origami stuff.” Dean shrugs and accepts the croissant as it gets passed right over the top of the display case. Obviously he doesn’t need any kind of wrapping because it’ll be done before he gets upstairs. Seriously, they know him _so_ well here.

“I see.” Balthazar hums a note that sounds a little _too_ thoughtful as he drops the money into the cash register. “Well, go on upstairs then. Don’t bother Jess, though. She has a cupcake order to do today and it’s stressing her out.”

She must have heard them, because she shouts from the kitchen. “Butter cream is the _worst_ and I’m going to fire whoever accepted this order!”

Dean tries not to laugh as he takes his first bite of the croissant and starts around the edge of the counter. “Don’t _you_ two have the final decision on what orders you take?”

Balthazar’s laughter follows him into the kitchen and Jess shoots him a dirty look as she pulls all manner of bowls and ingredients out. Dean flashes her a grin and waves quickly as he ducks up the staircase, beating a hasty retreat before he gets a bag of sugar to the face or something. He finishes his croissant while picking out the apartment key from the rest of the ones he has.

The kitchen table feels like the best place for him to put the origami out. That way it will be the first thing Cas sees when he comes home. He takes his time arranging them in a nice little line, even going so far as to prop the lid of the little box against one corner of it and scattering some of the stars around the base to make it look nice.

With that out of the way, Dean does another cursory sweep of the apartment to see if there’s anything that needs a little extra sprucing up. He already re-made the beds a few days ago and even aired out the blankets up on the roof for a bit. The place is spic-and-span and there’s pretty much nothing else that he could possibly do to it – which is a little disappointing, really. He isn’t entirely ready to go home yet, despite how tired he is.

Even though the shift was boring, maybe he wouldn’t be half as tired as he is if he wasn’t lacking his one o’clock pick-me-up. The coffee they have at that station isn’t even a fraction as good as the stuff that Cas makes for him at the café. Good _God_ but he hopes he’ll be back soon. Dean can’t wait for things to go back to normal again. It would be _so nice_ , and not just because Cas would be home again. To be fair, having him back  is what _really_ matters. There’s just been this great big Cas-shaped hole in Dean’s life since he left. How he’s been feeling this last month and a half, and everything else really, just showed how much Cas had worked his way into his life since they first met.

After checking on the plants, Dean ends up sitting on the edge of Cas’s bed with the watering can. He tests the soil of Cas’s favourite cactus, Harold, just to be safe. Of course he doesn’t have to water it, but it can’t hurt to be careful. Dean puts the watering can aside and picks up the glasses that Cas left on the bedside table. He turns them over in his hands and frowns. Over the last month and a half, he’s looked at them a few times because – seriously, how much of a rush do you have to be in to forget your glasses, huh? Then again, Cas doesn’t really need them to see, does he?

A few weeks ago, Dean tried them for the hell of it. He figured that maybe Cas forgot them because he only need them to read or something. It was a shot in the dark because he’s _always_ wearing them, but then Dean figured out that they’re completely and utterly _fake_. They might as well just be empty frames for how helpful they would be to Cas.

It didn’t take much contemplating to figure out that Cas must wear them to take focus away from his eyes. The only reason that Dean can tell that they’re not exactly Human is because he’s basically memorized everything about Cas; from how his pupils are a slightly slitted to how vibrantly blue they are. Someone who’s there to just buy a cup of coffee might not notice that because of the glasses. In any case, Cas looks good with or without them.

With a sigh, Dean puts the glasses down and flops back on the bed. It’s pretty damn comfortable and he hums to himself as he wiggles back to get his feet off the ground. He stares at the ceiling, watching the little rectangle of sun being reflected to the ceiling by something in the room. He washes it shimmer for a few minutes, wondering if Cas has ever seen something like this.

What degree of sunlight would make him change to stone and how does he cope with that during the summer when it rises so early and sets so late? What about in the winter when it’s cold as hell? Does he take his stone sleep on the roof or in his bedroom? Does he have to take that sleep _every_ night, like they used to do in the old cartoon show he used to watch, or do modern Gargoyles have a resistance to sunlight that they’ve built up over the generations of breeding with Humans?

Dean has _so_ many questions and he hopes that someday he might get the chance to ask them. He groans and rolls over to push his face into Cas’s pillow. Now that he’s washed them, they smell like his own fabric softener, but at least he can try and _pretend_ that it still smells a little like Cas. It’s all in the imagination, but holy _fuck_ this bed is comfortable. He muffles a yawn into the pillow and snuggles it a little more than needed.

Man, he just misses Cas _so much_. It’s start to get to the point where Charlie has been dropping hints about some of Gilda’s non-Fae friends that he might like. She’s been casually mentioning it in every other conversation and Dean has pointedly _not_ been picking up on what she’s been laying down. Mostly, it’s because he doesn’t want to. He’s still too heartbroken about having the rug ripped out from under him . Things with Cas were on the right track and now there’s just – there’s _nothing_.

There’s still that hope that he’ll come back, especially after what Jess said last week. The wait is killing him and he knows he should move on to someone else, but he can’t bring himself to even _think_ about it. When he’s ready to try dating again, he’ll actually make the effort to do it. Charlie should wait another few weeks to try again. He might be good to go by then. For now, it’s _way_ too early.

Whether he was planning to do it or not, Dean ends up dozing off while thinking about what might happen if Cas never comes home.

_** ** _

**_Tuesday – May 17 th, 2016_ **

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” A hand on his shoulder and a hushed whisper in his ear rouses Castiel rather quickly. The shaking certainly helps. “C’mon, kiddo, get up. We’ve landed.”

With a yawn, Castiel leans back and stretches his legs out under the seat in front of him. He rubs his eyes and glances around the tiny plane. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“I’m not surprised.” Gabriel laughs as he helps pull him to his feet. “You didn’t sleep at _all_ yesterday. You were up all night, all day, and then up all night again. I think you passes out not even a whole five minutes after we took off.”

“I did not.” Castiel frowns at him as he stoops to pick up Nike’s carrier, fetching it from where she was stored under the seat for the flight.

Gabriel snorts loudly and rolls his eyes. “You _definitely_ did. Don’t try fighting me on this, Cassie. I actually stayed _conscious_ for all five hours we were in the air.”

“Five hours?” Castiel covers his mouth to muffle another yawn. He is absolutely going to go back to sleep once they get home. “That’s not enough information to figure out where we were.” There are a lot of places that are a five hour flight from Burlington. It would be almost impossible to narrow down where they’ve been staying for the last month and a half.

Either way, he’s still rather surprised that he managed to get any sleep. After taking the stone sleep on Sunday, he woke up to the news that they would be flying home today. Keith said the FBI investigation came up with zero threats. Of course they’ll continue to keep tabs on him and especially on all future Witch conventions in the case that they’re held closer than usual and Castiel needs to minimize his presence with another impromptu vacation.

Castiel has been ready to leave since Sunday evening. They had very little to pack and he’s more or less been pacing in excitement since then. It was _very_ difficult to keep himself busy by reading whatever he could get his hands on, or listening to all of Dean’s voicemails over and over. Before they were picked up early this morning, he went through and refreshed himself on everything that has been sent to him since he went into hiding. At this point, he almost has them memorized. Of course, he’s not going to tell anyone about that.

Nike meows unhappily from inside her carrier as they get off the plane. The hanger is just as dark as it was when they were here last, and the same Taxi van is waiting almost in the exact spot they left it in. Castiel, Gabriel, and Keith pile into the van. This time, though, Nike’s carrier ends up on the floor. He can’t put her in his lap when his knee starts bouncing violently almost as soon as he’s seated. A burst of adrenaline is practically singing through his veins now that they’re _finally_ almost home. He can hardly contain his excitement now that they’re only an hour away from being back.

Now that he doesn’t have to be undercover anymore, Keith looks _far_ more professional than Castiel has gotten used to. He’s wearing a suit now with his hair tired back and his goatee cleanly shaven. Keith sits opposite of Castiel and Gabriel in the van, looking through a folder full of papers. A few minutes after they’re on the road, he puts the folder aside and pulls out two smart phones – both of them marked with post-it notes.

Keith checks the notes before passing them their respective phones. “All your information and data has been ported over from your old phones. We’ve covered our bases and given both of you new numbers. It’s up to you to give it to whoever you want.”

They both nod along in agreement, the both of them already starting to familiarize themselves with it. These models are far newer than their previous  phones. Castiel busies himself with setting a password and making sure everything really is there. In particular, the only thing he’s _really_ interested in is to make sure that his pictures with Dean are still available. The one of them in their Halloween costumes is what he sets as the background for his phone.

After a few minutes, Keith clears his throat. “Can we get back on topic, please?” He waits until he has both their attention before continuing “Alright. I’m going to assume the two of you still remember the cove store you gave when you first left?”

Gabriel focuses more on his phone than the conversation, but he nods. “Yup. Family emergency.”

“If asked, our story will be that we got notice of one our mother’s cousins being in the hospital with late stage cancer.” Castiel fills in the information that Gabriel neglected to expand upon. “She was basically on her death bed and was asking to see us. We considered her as an aunt when we were growing up, but she moved to Texas a few years before our parents died. Sadly, we lost touch with her after their funeral. An attempt was made, but it was difficult when we moved to Florida for a change of pace and for Gabriel to enter pastry school.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Gabriel jerks a thumb at Castiel as his phone beeps a few time. “She was one of our mother’s oldest and only cousin. A widower in her late sixties with no children. All she wanted was to see us before she died and apologize for not making more of an effort to be in our lives after our parents died.”

Castiel nods along and tucks his phone away, done with it for the time being. “We kept her company until she passed. Her lawyer is handling her estate, which we were informed is next to nothing. As such, we decided to head home instead of hanging around for all the legalities.”

“Sounds good.” Keith jots the details down in his own phone. “If you need proof prepared, feel free to send me a message and I can have a death certificate created. We can also doctor up some pictures if you need them.”

“Thank you.”

Keith picks up the folder and flips through the pages again. “Your temp employee, Naomi, is on shift today. She’s set to leave this evening.” He hands a few of the papers to Gabriel, effectively distracting him from his phone. “Castiel, I expect that you’re going to go straight up to the apartment since it’s the middle of the day. With that being the case, Gabriel, you’re going to have to sit down with her and your Fae buddy there. It would be better for you to do it in public where your employees can see you. Naomi will give you a brief report of her time there.”

With a snort, Gabriel holds up one of the pieces of paper. “What’s this about? Vodka?”

“Oh, that.” With a sigh, Keith takes the paper back and frowns at it. “Your Fae there is being paid his weight in vodka to go along with everything. He’s going to sit in with you and give a false report of how he thinks she did as if she were a regular employee. Then the two of you are going to fill out a questionnaire regarding her services. You can put whatever the hell you want down on it, since it’s just going to go in the trash afterwards. We’re just doing this for appearances.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at the rest of the papers, Castiel reading them from over his shoulder.

“Essentially, you just have to thank her for her services. Tell her you’ll keep her in mind if you need help again in the future, and then she’ll be on her way. Capiche?”

Both of them nod in understanding. “Capiche.”

Castiel raises his hand to interrupt, just in case Keith was going to speak further. “From what I gather about all of this; there’s nothing that you want me to do?”

“Correct, my fine feathered friend.” Keith snaps his fingers and ends it by pointing at him. “You just need to act _really_ tried.” He grins and looks pointedly at where Castiel’s leg is still bouncing. “D’you think you can pull it off there, Mr. Adrenaline Junkie?”

With some difficulty, he forces his leg to hold still. “Is that necessary, though? I could just tell the truth about how I slept on the plane. I can also say that I will be going back to sleep shortly.” Acting isn’t exactly one of his strong suits.

“Up to you.” Keith shrugs and slouches back in his seat. “You know yourself and how your employees would think better than I do.” His smile turns sly. “Though I bet they’ll still think it’s weird that the two of you are risking to travel during the day instead of at night.”

Gabriel grins and shares a look with Castiel. “We’ve got a backup plan for that. Airlines are biased against the nocturnal, meaning the night flights are more expensive. They offer dark planes during the day, so we took one of those.” It’s a lie based in true. There _are_ far less flights held at night, and they generally are more expensive than day flights.

After a few moments of nodding along, Keith leans forward again. “Alright, then. I have a curveball for you two.”

Castiel stops fidgeting with his phone where he’s been briefly toying with the idea of texting Dean about his return. It would do little good though, since Dean should be sleeping right he. Keith mentioned that they had received a text message earlier this morning to say that he was finishing – as he said – _the most boring shift of all freaking time_.

“What story are you going to give them for why you didn’t answer your phones the entire time that you were gone?”

That’s a very good question, but they did come up with a story for that as well. “Balthazar should have already taken care of that. In the case that he didn’t, we will explain that Gabriel dropped his in the toilet at the airport, and I forgot mine in the Taxi we took from the airport to our hotel. Gabriel’s phone couldn’t be saved and we were never able to find mine. We suspect that either the Taxi driver or another passenger stole it.”

“Yup.” Gabriel looks far too smug that they have all their bases covered. “Either way, we had contact with Balthazar and he was supposed to relay this information to everyone else. If he didn’t, then they can be mad at him.”

Keith throws his head back with a laugh. “Alright, alright. You boys are good and ready. I’ll let you relax for the rest of the ride.”

Though that’s what he says, an hour later finds him once again quizzing them to ensure that their stories are not only accurate but airtight. The ride has felt surprisingly quick. Castiel has spent the drive between Burlington and Montpelier composing various text messages to Dean and then deleting them before he can send them. He’s could try and message someone else, but there’s no one else that he really wants to contact.

Aside from his employees and Gabriel, the only other non-work or family related numbers in his phone are Dean’s and Keith’s. His number is saved as _Travel Agent_. Of course Castiel wasn’t the one who picked that. Keith must have been the one to put it in under that title. He probably fancies himself as being funny because it has the _Agent_ title in it.

By the time he works up the courage to actually hit send on what would break a month and a half long silence, the Taxi driver announces that they’re entering Montpelier. The problem is composing the messages it that Castiel doesn’t know how to word it. There’s just so much that needs to be said – so much that he _wants_ to say – and some of it should be said in person and not over the phone. Now that they’re officially back, Castiel is all the more certain that he wants to tell Dean the truth of everything.

Now that he thinks about it, he should probably tell Keith about that too. And he waits until the very last minute to do that. Quite literally. He waits until the Taxi is officially parked behind the café, the unloading tunnel deployed, and Gabriel already being greeted in the kitchen by Jess, Kevin, Sam, and Anna. Before the Taxi door was opened, Keith switched to the side of the van where he would be sitting out of sight.

Castiel lingers at the edge of the van, taking longer than necessary to get their bags and Nike’s carrier. The commotion in the kitchen is just enough of a cover for him to whisper to Keith without behind overheard. “Please add Dean to the  list of people who will know _everything_ about my situation.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” Keith sits forward suddenly and then jerks back again to stay hidden. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m telling him everything the first chance I get.” He masks a shrug with shoulder both his duffle bag and Gabriel’s. “This isn’t something I can keep a secret anymore. Not from him. Dean needs to know everything if we’re going to attempt to pursue a relationship together.”

It takes a moment for him to process that. The moment Keith figures it out, he covers his mouth to muffle his laughter. He holds his phone up and wiggles it slightly, a clear indication that the rest of this conversation will be continued over text message. Castiel can’t acknowledge it without someone potentially noticing, so he simply turns and heads into the kitchen to greet their awaiting employees.

The door to the front of the café is currently closed, keeping their customers from seeing how entirely unprofessional one of their head bakers is being. Jess is practically bouncing with delight as she pulls Castiel into a tight hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” He steps out of the hug at the first chance he gets, giving everyone else a nod in greeting. “I’m sorry that I can’t stay down here for long. The Taxi can’t take down the sun cover until I’ve gone upstairs. It’s also been a long flight and an even longer day, and I’d like to get some more sleep before the sun sets.”

There’s a chorus of displeased whining from the employees gathered. Gabriel takes the duffle bags from him. “Let me just run up first to make sure all the windows are covered.” He takes off up the stairs despite the complaints.

Kevin elbows his way to the front of the small group until he reaches Castiel’s side. “Now that you’re back, does that mean _The Graveyard Shift_ is going to open up again soon? I’ve been covering shifts here and there, but I really need my weekend shifts back.”

“I would like to get back to work as soon as possible.” Castiel shrugs and switches Nike’s carrier to his other hand. “If possible, I would like to have it open again by tomorrow night.”

“Awesome!” He shares an excited smile with Sam. “Does that mean that everything is going to go back to how it was?”

Castiel can’t be entirely sure, but he nods. “I believe so. We’ll see what happens after I get some sleep and Gabriel can catch up with Balthazar and Jess.”

It’s Anna’s turn to force her way to the front of the pack. Her wings are perked and vibrating near violently. “Where _were_ you guys? We were so worried!”

“Texas. It’s a long story, but I’m sure Gabriel will be able to give you all the information you’re asking for.” The only thing Castiel can offer is a small smile. “I slept a little on the flight, but I’m still very tired.”

Jess manages to pull him into yet another hug, this one jostling Nike’s carrier and making her meow unhappily. “I’m going to arrange a welcome home party and the two of you had better attend!”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Sam clears his throat and pulls Jess back by a hand on her shoulder. She turns a smile on him and leans into his side, reminding Castiel of the news Dean had texted earlier about how they’re dating now. “So, Cas.” Sam raises his eyebrows at him. “Have you told Dean that you’re back yet?”

“Not yet.” He shakes his head and pretends to focus more on calming Nike down than anything else. “I assumed that he was sleeping. Also, I lost my phone during the first day on the trip and I don’t have Dean’s phone number on me. I couldn’t remember what it was either.” It’s a lie, but a necessary one.

“Oh, that explains a lot.” Sam leaves Jess’s side to go to the employee hutch. He grabs a piece of paper and quickly writes down Dean’s phone number. “Here. I’ll let you give him the good news. He’s really missed you, you know.”

Though it’s entirely unnecessary because he actually has Dean’s number memorized, Castiel accepts the paper with a smile. “Thank you. I’ve missed him too.”

He’s saved from any further conversation by Gabriel coming back down the stairs. There’s a massive and utterly _ridiculous_ smile pasted across his face as he all but skips over to join them. “Okay, Cassie. It’s safe for you to head on up.”

Gabriel catches Jess’s eye and puts a finger to his lips. All of their employees start smiling, but Castiel frowns. “What? What is it?” Why does it look like everyone knows something more than him.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Gabriel flaps a hand at him. “Just go on up so Mr. Taxi Man can leave.” As if on cue, the driver clears his throat by the back door. Gabriel nods at him and starts trying to shuffle Castiel off up the stairs. “Go on, go on. Hurry it up.”

With a sigh, Castiel starts up the stairs. “I’ll see the rest of you another time.” He pauses only to wave at the others. “Thank you for taking care of things while we were gone.”

“I’d say _anytime_ , but I don’t think I want the responsibility of running a café again anytime soon.” Jess waves him off with a laugh.

Now _that_ is something Castiel can understand. Technically speaking, Jess isn’t supposed to work on Tuesdays or Thursdays. He’s not sure how she managed to do _all_ the baking, except for Balthazar’s bread, for the café all on her own for the last month and a half. They absolutely owe her an _extra_ big bonus for all the work that she’s done, and perhaps a few weeks of vacation now that they’re back.

On his way up the stairs, Castiel’s phone beeps with a message. He checks it to find that Keith has texted him. **_Let me know how the talk goes so I can edit his file to include BOYFRIEND. Good luck, kid!_** He even ended it with a winking emoji.

Castiel rolls his eyes and deletes the message, as is the protocol for any messages they get from their handlers. He tucks his phone away again as he walks into the apartment and takes a deep breath of _home_ for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s so nice to be back and he shuts the door with a sigh. Everything smells so _clean_. Dean certainly did a good job with taking care of the place. It’s absolutely cleaner than when they left it.

Jess isn’t the only one deserving of their thanks. Castiel will have to do something nice for Dean too the next time they see each other. Aside from keeping the apartment clean, Dean seems to have been busy in other ways too. He tries to smother his smile as he approaches the kitchen table and the origami decorating it. His heart almost melts as he counts them and realizes that even while he was gone, Dean still kept up with making the Saturday pieces for him. It reinforces his decision all the more to confess his feelings and tell the truth when they see each other again.

Nike’s angry meows reach a near howling level. It’s time to let her out and Castiel puts the carrier down to open the door on it. She’s a streak of brown and tan fur as she bolts out of the carrier and out of the kitchen. Not more than a few moments later he can hear her scratching in her litter box. It’s a miracle that she didn’t make a mess in her carrier after such a long flight. The poor thing is probably hungry too, and Castiel should feed her before he settles down for the rest of the day.

He finds her dishes in the drying rack next to the sink, and her food is still in the cupboard where he left it. Castiel shakes some kibble into one side of the split dish, and puts a few tablespoons of wet food in the bowl on the other side. She has a separate water dish and he fills that from the tap. With his bag over his shoulder and the dishes in both hands, he heads to his bedroom where Nike is most likely patiently waiting for something to eat.

Castiel was only slightly off. She’s still missing around in her litter box when he walks into the room. Unfortunately for her, there’s something else in his room that distracts him entirely from her entirely. No wonder Gabriel and the others were grinning like idiots. They knew that the apartment wasn’t empty, and sure enough it most certainly isn’t. There, spread out on the covers of his bed and cuddling one of the pillows to his chest, is _Dean_. Sam completely threw him off the scent by offering him the phone number. Castiel is going to have some _strong_ words for everyone when he seems them again.

Dean snores softly into his pillow and Castiel can’t help but smile. He crosses the room on silent feet to put Nike’s food down on her plastic feeding mat. She jumps out of her box and goes face first into the bowls, already noisily digging into her food. Her tail twitches back and forth excitedly and she starts purring as Castiel gives her a few scratches before standing up again. He leaves his duffle bag next to her for the time being.

His heart is in his throat as he moves to crouch at the edge of the bed. Castiel rests his chin as his hands as he watches Dean snore. He’s still wearing his work clothes, so he must never have gone home when he came here after the station this morning. In any case, he’s absolutely _adorable_ and Castiel can’t stop himself from smiling. His heart feels like it’s too big for his chest; happier in this one moment than he has been in _ages_.

With only slight hesitation, Castiel reaches over and gently touches the hand that Dean has flopped over the edge of the bed. They were just starting to hold hands when he had to leave, and he’s missed that. He slips his fingers between Dean’s again, pressing their palms together and squeezing his hands softly. Castiel hopes beyond hope that things between them haven’t changed any. And, if he’s lucky, things between them will take a giant leap forward once the truth is known between them.

The moment Dean’s fingers curl around his hand to hold it in place, Castiel’s pulse picks up and becomes a thudding tempo in his ears. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath before reaches out with his other hand. Carefully, he pushes he pushes his fingers into Dean’s hair. This isn’t something he’s every done before, but he’s certainly wanted to. He can feel whatever it is that Dean uses to style it, but his hair is just as soft as Castiel always thought it would be.

When he rubs his thumb over Dean’s forehead, it makes his nose crinkle slightly. After a few moments, Dean groans softly and he turns his face into the pillow, rolling over slightly onto his stomach. Castiel doesn’t let go of his hand and squeezes it slightly. He taps his thumb against the top of his head, humming softly while he waits. “Are you going to wake up any time soon, Dean?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Dean’s head pops up off the pillow. “ _Cas_?”

“Hello, Dean.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, his smile soft. “Did you sleep well?”

“Cas!” With a whoop of delight, Dean is up and off the bed in an instant and pulling Castiel into the tightest hug of his life.

Of course he hugs him back just as hard. Castiel presses his face into the side of his neck and fists his hands in the back of his shirt. Dean smells like home, or maybe now it’s his home that smells like him given that he’s been the only one here for the last month and a half.

“Holy _shit_.” Dean breathes against his shoulder. “You’re back!” He steps away to hold Castiel at arms’ length to look him over. “You _are_ back, right? This isn’t a dream, is it? Or you’re not just coming by to pick up all your shit because you’re moving away?”

“Yes, I’m back.”

Any worry that Dean might have had evaporates in an instant. He visibly relaxes before he pulls Castiel into another hug. “Where the hell _were_ you?” Concern and irritation fills his voice and then he’s shoving Castiel back again. “D’you have _any_ idea how _worried_ I was? You just dropped off the face of the Earth and I was starting to think that I was never going to see you again.”

Despite being berated, Castiel can’t stop smiling. He knows exactly the extend of Dean’s worry, and that’s been keeping him company over the last several weeks. It makes him feel warm right down to his very core and Castiel is far too happy to be experiencing it in person instead of via recorded voicemails or text messages.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” He pulls Dean into a hug of his own, his face against his neck once again. “If I could have contacted you, I would have.”

With a sigh, Dean melts into him. He takes a deep breath and hums against the side of Castiel’s neck. “Is everything okay now?”

“It’s _perfect_.” Castiel squeezes him tightly, not wanting to ever let go. “I missed you so much. But I have to thank you for your voicemails and text messages. They helped me quite a bit.”

And again Dean’s head pops up, his eyes wide as he takes a step back. “Wait. You actually _got_ those?

He nods with a smile. “Thanks to Gabriel. He saw how depressed I was and convinced our handler to have them shared with me.”

“Okay, wait. _Wait_.” Dean holds up both hands and frowns. “What do you mean by _handler_.”

“An FBI handler.”

His jaw drops along with his hands. “The – the _FBI_?”

Castiel nods again as he reaches for Dean’s hand. He links their fingers together and can’t help grinning as Dean squeezes his hand back. “Do you have somewhere to be or can we talk?”

Dean looks at the clock radio on the bedside table before glancing at his watch. “Holy shit. I totally slept _way_ longer than I thought I would.” He blushes and turns a guilty eye on the bed. “Sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I was –”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Castiel sits on the edge of the bed, pulling Dean down to sit with him. “If you’re free now, then I would like to talk to you before I lose the courage to do so.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you, Cas.” Dean’s smile is downright radiant as he squeezes Castiel’s hand.

This is it. This is the conversation that Castiel has been wanting to have for a month. His heart is already starting to hammer against his ribs. He’s hit with a sudden wave of trepidation, and it’s not alone. It brings with it joy, affection, and anticipation, and they’re _all_ a messy mix inside of him. By some miracle Castiel is managing to maintain a cool exterior, and he hopes he can keep it that way.

With a deep breath, he puts his hand over Dean’s. He’s been planning this in his head for ages now, and he’s long since decided on the first thing to say; “Do you still have feelings for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Tuesday – May 17 th, 2016_ **

Wait. Dear sweet God _wait_. There were lots of things Dean was expecting Cas to say right then and there, but this – this didn’t really rank among them. It’s kind of a slap-you-in-the-face question. A bring-the-whole-world-to-a-stop kind of question. That’s definitely what it feels like to him, at least. All Dean can do is sit and stare with his mouth open like a goddamn fish. As if it didn’t rock his world enough to suddenly have Cas _home_ , then there was the whole curveball with the mention of having an actual _FBI handler_. Now _this_?

It’s a dream and nightmare all rolled into one. Dean doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to blush or have a panic attack. Both are usually his reaction to being shoved under the microscope like this. What – what – _what_ should he say? The truth would probably be a good option, and it’s really the only thing he plans to say, but Jesus Christ! You don’t just put a guy on the spot like this. All it does is slam his brain into a brick wall and it’s going to take _way_ too long for it to get back up to speed with this situation.

After a few moments, Dean manages to close his mouth. He licks his lips, swallows, and licks them again. They’re going to talk about their _feelings_ again and he’s just – he’s never been that great at these kinds of conversations. It was a miracle that he managed to make it through the first one they had way back in January. And now – now Cas is asking about it _again_. This is really happening and Dean needs to say words because the silence is going on for a little too long and he may or may not be squeezing Cas’s hand a bit too hard.

“Can – can you repeat the q-question?” His voice cracks in the middle and Dean wonders if it’s too late to throw himself out the nearest window. While that might not have been what he meant to say, it does buy him the much needed time to get his house in order.

Cas blinks a couple times and tilts his head to the side. If he’s taken aback at all by the stupidest response of all time, he doesn’t really show it. “I asked if you still have feelings for me.”

And that rules out the possibility that Dean might have misheard him. He takes a deep breath and looks down at their hands. Oh. He was way too wrapped up in his own thoughts to even notice that Cas’s hand is shaking slightly where it’s resting on top of his. Jesus, why didn’t he realize that Cas is probably just as nervous asking him this as Dean is to answer it? That makes this so much easier now, like _whoa_.

“Alright, so –” Dean takes another deep breath and clears his throat. “I – I know I was supposed to – uh – _move on_ after we last talked about this.”

“But you didn’t?”

There’s something in Cas’s voice that has Dean looking up. It’s honest-to-goodness _hope_ and it’s all but shining in his eyes. He’s watching him closely, even leaning forward like he’s all kinds of expectant. And _oh boy_ , that just makes his heart flutter something awful. It’s almost enough to make him dizzy, but holy shit does it do _wonders_ for his courage.

Dean swallows around the lump rising in his throat and nods. “Definitely didn’t.” He nods again and does his best to keep his breathing steady. Otherwise he’s going to start hyperventilating and that’s not going to be good for anyone. “I-if anything, it – um – my feelings situation has actually got-gotten _worse_.”

When Cas relaxes back with a smile and what is undoubtedly a sigh of _relief_ , Dean has to physically bite back a goddamn _whimper_. “Oh, good.”

“G-good?” Oh please, oh please, oh _please_ let this be what he thinks it means.

Cas’s smile turns ten times softer and he squeezes Dean’s hands. “Yes. _Very_ good.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I want to return to this line of conversation again, but first I have something very important I need to tell you about myself.”

Holy _fuck_ yes. This is totally going to be it if Dean plays his cards right and doesn’t utterly fuck this up. But it’s really hard when his excitement levels are quickly spiking off the charts. “Is this going to be about why you left? And this whole thing that apparently involves the _Federal Bureau of Investigation_?”

“And more.”

Mother of God. His heart is going to stop. His heart is literally going to fail. It’s going to give out and he is going to _die_. No, _no_. That’s a wuss move and Dean is no _wuss_. He’ll face this like the man he is and maybe have the chance to make out with Cas afterwards, hopefully. Okay, so he’s not going to _aim_ for that right now, but it would be a really nice bonus. Super nice. Crazy nice. Oh jeeze, his mind is running miles ahead and he needs to _stop_.

“Okay, okay.” Dean gathers up both of Cas’s hands between his and squeezes them tight. “If we’re going to dive right into full honesty here, then I’ve got something to tell you. I –”

Cas shakes his head to cut him off. “I know how smart you are, and I know how inquisitive you are.” He smiles softly and pulls his hands free to hold Dean’s instead. “I suspected that you would have done a search the moment you and I spoke about the roof garden. The FBI confirmed that you did a search the day that you saw my statue.”

And now Dean wants to die in a slightly different way. Mentioning the FBI _searching_ into him kinda takes the wind out of his sails. “Am – Am I in trouble for that?”

“No, of course not.” Cas pats the back of his hand. “I suspected you knew the moment you brought up seeing the statue. They simply confirmed it for me.”

Confirmed? As in everything was _right_? Dean sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward a little more than necessary. “Does that mean – Are you really – You’re a –?”

All of this seems to be incredibly amusing to Cas. He hasn’t stopped smiling and he’s gone so _soft_. Dean has never seen him look so soft and warm and – And Cas brings his world to yet another dead stop this morning with one tiny little word; “Yes.”

Before Dean can say anything, Cas pulls away; reaching  behind his head to grab the back of his sweater. With one pull, he basically signs Dean’s death certificate by _taking his goddamn shirt off_. If his heart wasn’t pounding to beat the bank right now, then his pulse would be going through the fucking roof. Of all the things that Cas could have done right now, taking off his shirt was not one of them. Honestly, Dean would have predicted getting slapped in the face before he ever thought that one of them would be losing an article of clothing in this situation.

“This is – uh – unexpected?” He has to cough his way through that sentence because in no world did he ever think that this day would consist of sitting on a bed with a half-naked Cas next to him. Yeah, he can’t wrap his head around the idea of a _half-naked Cas sitting next to him_. It’s so astounding that it bears repeating. Over and over in his head.

It shouldn’t be possible, but Dean’s shock gets overshadowed in an instant. The moment Cas lowers his arms, it’s a whole new realm of awestruck-ed-ness. Dean knows that’s not a real word but holy shit, it’s definitely what he’s feeling right now. He’s completely struck dumb by the mass of black feathers inked across Cas’s back, shoulders, and starting down his arms. Right about then is when Dean realizes that he’s never once seen Cas wearing a t-shirt.

The tattoo is absolutely gorgeous and he has to physically stop himself from reaching out to touch it. He’s always been entranced by tattoos, but this isn’t the time or place for them because seeing these ‘ _wings_ ’ is reminding him of one glaringly obvious fact. “Wait a second. You had actual wings when I saw you as the statue.”          

Cas nods as he rolls his shoulders. “I can’t even tell you how much time it took Gabriel to Frankenstein various spells together until he was able to find a way to hide my wings for me.” He reaches over his shoulder and runs his fingers over some of the feathers. “Once my wings were hidden, I was able to go outside without having a panic attack. I was always worried that someone would see them and know that I was a Gargoyle instead of an Angel, or a Harpy, or any other manner of winged Creature.”

“Is it okay – I mean –” Dean tries his hardest to not sound like he’s _insanely_ excited about this. He’s not entirely convinced that he’s not dreaming right now, but either way he needs to keep it in his pants because this is _not_ the time to start fanboying over the fact that Cas legitimately has _wings_. Even if he would give his left nut to see them in person.

“Can – Can I see them?”

With a hum, Cas glances at him from the corner of his eye. He takes a deep breath and turns to face him, his smile small but blinding. “I want to show you the real me. When Gabriel comes back upstairs, I’m going to ask him to release them for me.”

Yup, this is definitely a dream. One hundred percent a dream. Dean’s mouth goes dry and he subtly pinches himself on the back of his hand. Okay, maybe not a dream. He licks his lips and, again, tries _really_ hard not to come across as _too_ excited. “I’m super psyched about this, but – uh – why do you want to show them to me _now_?”

In an instant, Cas flushes red from the roots of his hair right down into his chest. He drops his eyes to his lap; suddenly _very_ interested in folding his sweater and smoothing out the creases. It takes him a moment to speak, and he’s almost too quiet when he does. “Because I had a month and a half to think about the situation between us and I – I’ve come to a decision.”

Dean holds his breath and leans forward slightly; the personification of waiting on the edge of his seat. He has never wanted to hear words from Cas’s mouth more in his life. His hopes are getting wildly out of hand, but he doesn’t fucking care because a decision about the situation between them is basically everything that Dean has wanted for _months_.

Cas looks up at him from under his lashes, face still turned downward. “In case you didn’t put it together yourself, Gabriel and I left because we thought we might have been found by the coven of Witches that killed my parents.” When Dean nods, he continues. “Because of that, there was the very real possibility that we might not be able to return.”

“And I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you _did_ come back.” Dean reaches out to put his hand over Cas’s on top of his sweater. They’ve gone long enough without touching and it’s about time they start holding hands again.

“Thank you.” Cas turns his hand over so they can link fingers again. He looks away; eyes sliding from the wall to the floor and never really resting on one particular thing around the room. “While we were gone, I realized I had some regrets – in particular, about _you_.”

Normally regrets aren’t a good thing, but Dean likes the sound of this one. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” He nods and finally fixes on a point over his shoulder. “My biggest regret was that I was too scared to take a chance with you.”

Holy shit, yes! Fucking _yes_! If they were having this conversation over the phone or via text, Dean would absolutely be jumping up and down; punching the air and whooping like a kid on a Christmas. But, because they’re doing this in person, he contains himself to nothing more than a sharp breath in. It shakes as he lets it out. His mind just got a hell of a dose of adrenaline and it’s already starting to race; jumping here, there, and everywhere while he processes everything that he’s learned since he woke up.

After a few moments, he holds up his free hand and squeezes Cas’s hand with the other. “Can we just pump the brakes here for a second? I just woke up and this is a lot to absorb at once.”

“Of course.”

Cas’s smile this time is a little strained and he brings a hand up to hold the crystal pendant hanging against his chest. That’s nothing new to Dean. He’s seen it a few times when they’ve hung out before, but he’s never really thought to ask about it before. With what he knows about the Witches and the FBI and everything now, that might be something he wants to tack on to the growing list of questions building in the back of his mind.

Dean rubs a hand over his face while he puts his thoughts in order. “Okay. I hope I’m reading this right, but you – um – you like me too?” God, he feels like he’s in fourth grade all over again.

Instead of using words, Cas just turns a few shades darker. He nods and a knot in Dean’s chest lets go with the biggest goddamn wave of relief. Dean couldn’t stop himself from smiling even if he tried to. “That’s – holy shit, that’s pretty awesome.”

That smile goes nothing but radiant again, wrinkling Cas’s nose and putting crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Dean squeezes his hands and shuffles a little closer on the bed, right up until their shoulders bump together. “The only thing not so awesome about all this is that you’re apparently being hunted by a coven. Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re dark magic Witches, right?”

“Mhmm.” Cas looks down at his lap again. “I’ve never told anyone the whole story of what happened. But I – I’d like to tell you, if I may?”

“Definitely!” Dean winces at how enthusiastic he sounds. “I mean; of course. If you want to tell me, Cas, then I’m all ears.”

There’s a knock behind him and Dean twists around to see Gabriel with his knuckles still on the door frame. He crosses his arms and leans against it instead. “You want a second viewpoint on that story you’re about to tell there, Cassie? Y’know, from someone who _wasn’t_ in the back of a transit van for most of it?”

Cas looks up with a frown, but it eases into something more sad than anything else. He nods and Gabriel crosses the room to sit down on his other side. After a few moments, Castiel takes a deep breath and turns to Dean again. “Our parents were murdered when I was thirteen years old.”

_** ** _

**_Wednesday – July 16, 2003_ **

James works through the sheet of equations as quickly as he can, figuring out the complex calculations in his head without a calculator before writing out his process. It’s not quite a race, but he and Richard always do it. Especially once he skipped through enough ‘ _grades_ ’ for them to work at the same level – which is something, considering that Richard is _six_ years older than him. Though it wasn’t necessary for him to work as hard as he has to reach this point, James did it to make things easier on their mother. If he does the same work as Richard, then she doesn’t have to prepare two separate lesson plans.

“Richard, you have to show your work to get full marks.” Mom doesn’t even look up from her binder on the other side of the table. “Only giving the answers will only gets you half marks.”

With a groan, Richard flips his sheet back over and returns to the first questions. “ _Now_ you remind me. I was almost done!”

She sighs and taps the end of her pen against the note pad she was previously writing on. “There are no prizes for finishing first. You know that.”

He grumbles under his breath but continues the work without further complaint. James does his best not to gloat as he finishes the last question of the quiz. When he’s finished, he reviews all the questions in case he made any mistakes. Once satisfied, he adds his name and the date to the top of the sheet before he slides it across the table. Richard makes an unhappy noise and scrambles to do the same. Mother places them in her binder when she has both and closes it. She’ll mark them during tomorrow’s class while they do whatever work sheets she has for them.

“I think that will conclude tonight’s lessons. One more thing, though.” She raises an eyebrow as she finally looks up at them. “Have you done the homework that I assigned?”

“Technically speaking, all school work is homework.” Richard pulls a paper folder out of his own binder and tosses it across the table. “Because, y’know, we’re home schooled and all that.”

Mom tries to frown, but her smile ruins it. “What did I say about being smart with me, young man?”

“I don’t remember. I was too busy thinking about how you’re the greatest mom in the world.” He grins and flutters his eyelashes at her.

James rolls his eyes at the same time as their mother. Unlike him, however, she actually laughs. Richard’s attempts at humour always work on her, though James doesn’t find them funny at least half of the time. His sense of humour differs from Richard’s quite a bit. With a sigh, he slides his own homework folder across the table.

“Thank you very much.” Mom takes both folders and puts them in her binder. “Now that class is done, I think we should have some outside time. Are either of you up for some basketball out back before your father comes home?”

The way James’s wings puff is answer enough, but he still nods excitedly. He _loves_ being outdoors, despite how his wings always ache when he looks at the sky. As much as he loves their home, he would much rather spend all his time outside if he could. Even better would be if he was given the chance to try flying. While his parents don’t clip his flight feathers like they could, they _have_ stressed how he should never try for anything more than gliding from the roof to the ground. But gliding isn’t the same as soaring and _that’s_ what he wants to do.

Of course he’ll never try, no matter how much he wants to. It’s been explained to him time and time again that it’s just not safe for him to fly, no matter what kind of precautions they’ve taken. Their home is a good thirty or so minutes outside of Canton, Ohio where their nearest neighbour is a whole ten minutes down the road – at least. The driveway that leads from their home to said road is long and twisting through a veritable forest of trees so close together that it’s impossible to see the main road from their front steps.

The privacy granted to them by the trees is what allows James and his father the freedom to walk around the yard without having to cover up their wings. It’s rather uncomfortable for them to go to town because they have to tuck their wings in as close as they can, bind them, and wear long, heavy coats to hide them. Between going to town and being at home, James would much prefer the latter. His favourite people in the world are here, and he hardly knows anyone in town so there’s no real point in leaving the safety of home, is there?

Richard pops out of his chair; flashing a grin at both James and their mother. “Last one to the hoop is a rotten egg!”

James snaps out the wing on his left side, catching Richard by surprise. It’s just enough of an advantage for him to get to his feet and bolt across the kitchen. He’s out the back door before Richard even knows what happened. The basketball is on the grass outside the kitchen window and James runs to pick it up.

The window is open and he can hear their mother’s laughter drift through it. “I guess that makes _you_ the rotten egg, hm?”

“Not if I don’t get out there before you!”

There’s a clatter of chairs, some light cursing, and James looks up in time to see the two of them crash together at the door. They try elbowing each other out of the way, shoving at one another until Mom manages to trip Richard up just enough to get free. James waits for them, casually dribbling the ball under the floodlights mounted on tall polls at the edge of their driveway. As soon as they step off the grass, he takes a jump shot at the hoop mounted above the garage door.

He’s not sure the reason for it, but their garage is actually located on the _back_ of the house. Their incredibly long driveway connects to a large gravel patch at the front of the house where visitors can park, and then continues around the side of the house to loop into the garage. They rarely have any visitors, but the gravel patch has been where their dad builds a small skating rink during the winter. Regardless of what it’s used for or the reason it was built, James still loves their home.

Mom catches the ball as it bounces off the rim of the net. “We can play until your father gets back from his errand.” She passes the ball to Richard before checking her watch. “I say he’ll be back within the hour. Think you two can get along together that long?”

“Me and Jimbo?” Richard bounces the ball across the driveway to James. “We’re like peanut butter and jelly. We get along just _great_. Don’t we, little bro?”

“Not as long as you keep calling me _Jimbo_.” James sticks his tongue out before taking another jump shot at the hoop. This one sinks through with a quiet _swish_. He turns to their mother as Richard chases after the ball. “Are we going to eat when Dad gets home?”

Sunrise is only a few hours away. Usually on nights when Dad goes out, they eat when he comes home. After clean up, they cover up all the windows, turn on a movie, and watch it until they all retire to their own rooms to prepare for bed. Mom and Richard sometimes stay up later, if only because even after all the years of functioning on a Gargoyle’s schedule, they still have some trouble sleeping during the day time – despite having been up all night.

It really is nice of them to live on their schedules. They don’t _have_ to, but they do. Mom and Richard look normal. His parents would kill him if they knew that’s what James considered them to be: _normal_. They’ve tried so hard to keep James safe without feeling alienated from the world. It’s worked, to a degree. But _they_ don’t have wings that need to be hidden for them to go out in public. James and his father are the odd ones out compared to most of society, even to most Creatures. And he’s fine with that. He’s more than happy to stay here with his family.

James doesn’t even mind that Richard teases him all the time. It can get annoying on occasion, but he puts up with it only because he knows what Richard gave up to spend time with him. He used to attend public school, but decided to be homeschooled like James once he was old enough to start their mother’s lessons. It was a very sweet gesture on his part, though he likely didn’t expect to have his _six years younger_ brother reach his schooling level before he was even ten years old. The teasing may be part of his inability to express his pride, or his jealousy at not having skipped grades himself. It’s hard to determine the exact reasoning, but as long as he’s never outright _mean_ about anything then James is more than happy to put up with it.

Technically speaking, neither one of them is functioning at a high school level any more. They’ve both graduated, so to speak, and are now doing university level courses. It’s helpful that they’re working at the levels their mother actually teaches. She’s an online instructor for various university course. The two of them are doing more generic coursework than anything at the moment, but Richard has been leaning towards learning about business. That means he’s going to have to start taking courses from a different instructor as that falls outside Mother’s areas of expertise, but she’s preparing him as best she can for all the prerequisites needed.

In James’s case, he isn’t particularly interested in anything at the moment. He has a passing interest in creative writing, but that’s only because he _adores_ reading. He devours just about anything his parents buy for him or get from the library.

With that in mind, James clears his throat as Mom steals the ball from Richard to take her own shot on the hoop. “Was Dad planning on going to the library today?”

She turns to him with a sly smile and a wink. “Perhaps.” She shrugs and falls into a defensive stance to try and block Richard from getting to the hoop with the ball he caught. “It depends how long his business took. You know he was only in town to drop off and pick up all his stuff with Mr. Montagne.”

James groans and ruffles his feathers. He finished off his most current batch of books the other day and he’s resorted to re-reading some of his favourites until he gets his hands on new ones. Mother has several of her favourite books in her room, but James is forbidden from touching them. Apparently he’s not _mature_ enough for how _full frontal_ some of the characters get, according to Mother. Little does she know, but he _did_ pick up one of the books once upon a time. After reading ten whole pages he decided that it just wasn’t for him.

“What stuff is Dad bringing home this time?” Richard backs away from their mom while dribbling before he bounces it across the driveway to James. “Think he’ll let me help him?”

“You know how he is. He likes doing things himself.” She shakes her head and shuffles over to block James from getting close enough to take a shot on the hoop. “I was going to do some baking to thank Mr. Montagne for his help this week. I could use a hand with that, if you’re free.”

Richard rolls his eyes but makes his way back around behind their mother, going so slowly that she doesn’t exactly notice him do it. “I _guess_ I’ll help. But don’t think I don’t know that you just want my steady hand to help you with all the decorating.”

“Damn right I do.” She laughs and intercepts as James tries to pass the ball. “C’mon, sweetie. You can do better than that.”

As she pivots to try and take a shot herself, Richard all but smacks the ball from her hands; sending it bouncing onto the lawn and rolling back towards where their father’s shop is. It more resembles a miniature barn than James’s idea of a _shop_ , but it’s just big enough to get the job done. In Father’s case, the job is repairs. He fixes just about anything from broken toys to clocks to cars. There’s nothing he can’t fix and he can use any tool he gets his hands on.

Their friend, Mr. Montagne, is one of _very_ few people who know their family’s secret. He manages the more public side of their Father’s business. Point in fact, he’s the one with the actual _shop_ in town. It’s a place where people can bring their broken things and he’ll either bring them out to them or Father will go and pick them up himself. Of course he doesn’t do it that often, because he hates having to bind his wings just as much as James does.

As far as he and Richard are concerned, their parents are basically geniuses. Richard might not be biologically related to their father, but that certainly doesn’t affect their relationship. He was only a few years old when Mother remarried, and Father did adopt him in the end. This was long before James was born, but he’s very happy he was. Even though he has to hide what he is for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t change a thing. He loves his family and he can’t imagine life without them.

“Can we play HORSE?” James looks between Richard and their mom hopefully once he’s brought the ball back. It’s about one of the only basketball games that he can actually win, if only because there are some moves he can do with his wings that neither of them can.

Richard knows this, but before he can decline, Mother is already answering. “Alright, sweetie. Why don’t you take first shot?”

Excitedly, James goes to make the shot, flapping his wings to jump higher than either of them could possibly go and float slightly before shooting. As the game goes, they’re supposed to make the exact same shot. If they can’t do it, they get the first letter of the word _horse_. Once they have the whole word spelled out, they lose. James cheats in a sense by using his wings – something they could never hope to replicate properly. He tends to win most of the games that way.

They play until they get interrupted by the crunch of tires on the gravel. Their van comes around the corner of the house; a transport van with no windows in the back and a divider between the front seats and the back – just in case they ever have to run in the middle of the day. It’s never happened in all of James’s thirteen years and he hopes it never does. The garage door starts opening, meaning that Father is going to be going there instead of to his shop. There isn’t a driveway to the barn, rather it’s just rough tracks in the grass from the gravel to the door.

Father waves from behind the windshield. James steps out of the way with the ball balanced against his hip and waves back. Instead of doing the same, Mother and Richard place themselves directly under the basketball hoop. They link arms and dance in a circle, stopping only to wiggle their behinds at the van while they block the way. James snorts a laugh as Father honks the horn, inching forward until they break apart and dance out of the way. Mother blows kisses as he drives past to park in the garage.

Richard beats James to the door of the van. He gets a hearty pat on the shoulder in greeting. The moment he’s shrugged out of his coat, he undoes the clasp of the binder pinning his wings to his back. With a loud groan, he stretches them out and proceeds to cuff Richard in the back of the head with the curve of one wing. His wings are a lovely salt and pepper colour; certainly different from James’s own jet black feathers. According to pictures, Father had wings like his once upon a time and James is looking forward to when he’ll have mottled black, white, and gray wings like him.

When it comes to his greeting, James goes for a full hug if only because he adores how Father always folds him in his wings and kisses the top of his head. His hugs are the best because they’re _two_ hugs in one. Mother’s hugs are a very close second. Richard isn’t one for hugs, but James treasures them _because_ they’re so few and far between.

“What are you going to be fixing this time?” Mother comes around the back of the van and pats the side of it. “Anything interesting?”

“Hardly.” Father rolls his eyes and tosses his coat back into the front seat of the van. “Just the standard clocks, watches, and odds and ends. The most interesting thing is a lawn mower, depending on what you consider interesting.”

He reaches for Mother and pulls her into a hug. Though he folds her in his wings like he did James, he kisses her full on the mouth for an uncomfortably long time. James turns away and shield his face with his wings. Richard does the same, but he makes gagging noises as he covers his eyes with his hands. It earns him another cuff of Father’s wing.

Mother tries to cover a laugh, but she’s fails miserably. She turns her face into Father’s shoulder until she can gain composure of herself. When she’s ready, she smiles at them. “We were just thinking about getting supper started. Do we have any requests?”

“Pizza!” Richard drops his hands with a grin. “One _covered_ in meat.”

Could he act any more like a child? He turned twenty back in April and he still hasn’t quite grown up. If he wanted to, he could have gotten a job by now but he hasn’t. He spends all his time hanging around the house and occasionally going into town with one of their parents. James won’t say anything about it, though. The two of them get along rather well with the usual brotherly ribbing every so often, and James is more than happy to have his companionship.

That said, he doesn’t agree with that suggestion for dinner. “We had that last Friday. I want _tacos_.”

Richard shoots him a glare and James stares him down. Father flaps the wing that isn’t curled around Mother’s shoulder. He always has one around her whenever they’re standing together. “I dunno, kids. I was thinking something like spaghetti and meatballs. We _do_ have that ground beef thawing in the fridge, don’t we?”

“Of course we do. I was saving it for those giant meatballs you always make.” Mother nods, already starting to look excited. “ _And_ we have garlic bread we could toss in the oven too.”

Even though it’s not pizza, Richard is immediately interested. James has much the same reaction, as his wings fluff up in delight. “You mean the meatballs that are the size of an orange?”

“The very same.” Father nods, a grin tilting this his lips. “But only if you’re interested, of course.”

There’s little to no argument there. Mother is a truly horrendous cook, but she’s an excellent baker. On the other hand, Father is a fantastic cook and usually does the vast majority of the cooking in the house. James likes helping him, while Richard seems to favour more on the baking aspect. They have their own little niches in the family and they work well together like that. Just the way that James likes it.

Richard holds his hand out for a high five and James returns it in a heartbeat. Their parents share a look and Father shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s settled then. Now let’s get inside and get started. I dunno about you, but I’m almost too hungry to wait that long.”

“Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg!” Richard is off like a shot with nothing but laughter in his wake.

It’s all James can do to keep his eyes from rolling out of his head as he follows at a much more sedate pace. “Could you act your age for once?”

“Try and make me!”

Mother pats him on the shoulder as she catches up to him. “Your father and I have been trying to make him grow up for _years_ , honey. It’ll take a lot more than anything we do to make that happen.”

Truer words have never been spoken. James is only thirteen and he’s _at least_ ten times more mature than his older brother. Which is why he decides to get a head start on the homework for this week. He settles down at the kitchen table where they left their binders earlier and gets to work. Richard helps their parents get started before joining him. It would be too many hands in the kitchen if he helped too. And, of course, their parents are in one of their _moods_ ; the flirty kind where they’re giggling and standing too close. They toe the line of adorable and disgusting.

But that’s just part of their family. Their parents are in love and they’re family is as close as family can be or should be.  Which is why, no matter what courses their mother has to teach or what items their father has to fix, they always make time to have dinner together as a family. They sit and make it a point to say at least three nice things about their day. If any of them happened to have a bad day, then they talk it through. As a _family_.

Dinner is, by far, one of James’s most favourite moments of the day. He _loves_ it and he loves his family. They’re more than enough for him. He doesn’t even feel very bad about being separated from society like they are. If it’s so great, then why does he need to hide what he is? As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t need anything other than their little family. Nothing could be greater than them and he doesn’t see how anything else could make him happier.

*

**_Saturday – July 19, 2003_ **

He should have taken _the sleep_ today, but James hates taking it and cleaning up afterwards. Regardless, it’s going to be so _weird_ to not be on the same schedule as his father. Knowing Father, though, he’ll just take it again earlier than needed so that he and James can be on the same sleep schedule again. Today is just an exception because whatever he ate while he was out with friends the other night isn’t agreeing with his stomach. Rather than suffer through it, Father took the stone sleep to force his body to ‘ _reset_ ’, so to speak.

James never considered the fact that his dislike for the stone sleep would save his life one day.

The bedside clock reads that it’s just before noon when Mother wakes him. She doesn’t do it gently either; pulling him almost violently from the bed. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

Her voice is urgent but soft as she half carries, half drags him from his room and through the house. They have shutters on the inside of their windows and heavy curtains to block even the slightest bit of light. It’s like that so James and his father can get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the day if needed. One of James’s biggest fears is that Richard will try to prank him by opening a window while he’s in the bathroom one day and he’ll turn to stone with his pants around his ankles or similar.

Mother drags him past the bedroom she shares with Father, his statue probably squatting frozen in one corner. She always closes the curtains after he turns, if only so she can get some sleep too. It’s hard to do that in a room full of sunlight. But she has to leave just one crack so Father can remain in the stone sleep too. The bedroom door is shut and James doesn’t get the chance to see him as he gets herded to the kitchen and the door to the garage.

James stumbles down the few steps, still barely awake. He looks to his Mother and rubs at his eyes as she pulls him over to the van. “Mom?”

Richard is standing next to the van with a heavy tarp in his hands. James doesn’t like the worried look in his eyes. Mother opens the side of the van and helps him into it. Father emptied it yesterday into his shop and now James is free to crouch in the middle of it without issue. He turns around to face Richard and their mother. She has tears in her eyes and it sends a cold chill down James’s spine; making his feathers ruffle uncomfortably.

Mother takes the tarp from Richard and passes it to him. “Cover yourself with this, sweetie. Just in case a door gets opened, okay?”

This isn’t sitting right with him and James can’t stop his voice from shaking. “Mom, what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it, dear.” She reaches out to pat him on the cheek. “And don’t worry about not covering yourself completely. It’s okay if you turn to stone in here.” Her voice cracks and she pulls him forward by his shoulder. She presses a kiss to one cheek and then the other before kissing him on the forehead. “Remember that I love you, okay?”

Though Mother means that to be a comfort, but all it does is upset James even more. He can hazard a guess as to what is going on and it’s making him feel like he’s going to throw up. A lump rises in his throat and he blinks back tears of his own. “I love you too, Mom.”

The tears start streaming down her cheeks as she steps back. She blows him a kiss before shutting the door. That’s the last James sees of her. He reaches up and turns on the dome light in the middle of the ceiling. It’s better than sitting in the dark waiting for something to happen. He flinches when he hears the driver’s side door open and close again. Moments later, the engine rumbles to life and the van trembles under him.

James closes his eyes and pictures his Mother. He commits to memory the loose braid she always wears her hair in when she sleeps; her favourite set of small gold hoop earrings in her ears; her favourite set of pajamas covered in bees and flowers. She looks the same almost every night of his life and James devotes it all to memory because he knows that there is a very real possibility that he probably won’t see her again. Tears start to make the side of the van swim in his vision and he hugs his knees to his chest, hiding his face against them.

“Jimbo, put that tarp on.” Richard knocks against the divider separating them. “Just in case, okay?”

He doesn’t want to, but he does. Just another thing to separate him from the rest of the world. James tucks his wings up tight against his back and pulls the tarp over his head. It’s stifling hot underneath it, but he takes deep breaths and tries his best to keep calm. Of course it doesn’t work and the tears keep coming. It doesn’t help that he could hear them in Richard’s voice too.

The garage door opens and James is nearly knocked over by Richard slamming on the gas and reversing out onto the driveway. The van turns sharply and shudders as he changes gears quickly. When they start forward this time, James really does fall over. He slides across the empty van until he hits the back door.

“You okay back there?” Richard’s voice is choked and deeper than usual when he calls back to him.

He’s not hurt, but it’s hard to answer around the lump in his throat. James shakes his head and sniffles, but that’s about all he can handle. It takes him ages to find his voice. “Are they there?”

Richard obviously know what he means. “Yeah.”

James’s stomach drops to the bottom of his feet and his hands shake where they’re holding the tarp down. “Are – are they chasing us?”

“No.” Richard revs the engine, speeding up and taking the bends in the road sharper than James would like. The van tips dangerously as he swerves off their driveway and onto the road. James can tell when the sound of the tires changes from gravel to cement.

“Do you think our parents will be okay?”

He needs the reassurance that they’ll see them again. Unfortunately, Richard doesn’t give it. In fact, he doesn’t say another word for several minutes. James sniffles to himself in silence for the rest of the drive into town. He pushes his palms into his eyes and tries to steady his breathing, but it’s almost impossible. How is he supposed to steady himself when he’s currently experiencing his worst nightmare? Worse yet, why hasn’t he heard sirens yet? Why aren’t the police on their way to save his parents?

Mother would have called the police in an instant the moments the alarms would have gone off. They have a security systems with cameras at the gate to their driveway. If anyone tries to open the gate without the proper code or a remote control, it sets off alarms in the house and should have set off to the police too. So why is no one responding like they’re supposed to?

James wracks his brain to try and figure out what could have been the problem. It takes him a few moments before it occurs to him. There were no lights on in the house. Mother would have turned on at least one light on her way to get him. Was the power out? It must have been. He’s fairly certain that the nightlight in the hallway was also off. The garage door has a back up battery, so it wouldn’t have been  affected by something like a blackout.

Even when the power is out, the alarms should be working too, shouldn’t they? The only reason they wouldn’t work is if _all_ the lines were cut. Electricity, alarms, phone – everything. Wait. James mutters a swear under his breath as he remembers seeing the phone in the kitchen hanging off the base. It was sitting on the floor by the door with its long cord stretched to the base mounted on the wall. With the phones out, that means the police don’t know what’s happening.

He covers his mouth and swallows against the bile rising in his throat. James squeezes his eyes shut against a fresh new wave of tears. Neither he nor Richard will be able to do anything for their parents. All he can do is hope that they’ll be fine on their own. Maybe, if Mother seals Father off from sunlight completely, he’ll wake up before sunset and help her fend off whoever it is that’s come for them. Father always said that it would be Witches – the ones who practice dark magic and want him for his stone. If he’s awake, then he can protect himself and help Mother keep them both safe.

Mother is just Human. She doesn’t have magic like Father, Richard, or even James does. All she has are the weapons they keep in the house. Will that be able to stand against dark magic? James has never seen it in action, but he assumes that it’s powerful. Why else would it be illegal? Why else would the government be hunting down and arresting anyone and everyone who practices it? He doubts a regular gun would hold up against it. Only magic can defeat magic.

When the van eventually comes to a stop, Richard knocks on the door again. “Stay right here, Jimbo. I’ll only be gone a second.”

“No!” James sits up and throws back the tarp. “Richard, wait!” The last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. But his plea comes too late and is lost to the sound of the door being slammed shut.

For several terrifying moments, James is left alone in the van with nothing but a flickering light above his head and the heat of the noon day sun making it warmer than he would like. The panic builds the longer Richard is gone. He’s wound so tight that he flinches violently when sirens start as if they were on the other side of the van’s wall from him. James shudders with a sigh of relief when he hears the driver’s side door open again.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m back.” Richard knocks on the wall again and the van lurches into movement again.

This time they only drive a short distance. Once they’ve come to a stop again, James can hear the grinding whirr of a garage door closing. Richard gets out again and a short moment later, the back door of the van opens. James just barely gets the tarp up and over his head before that.

“It’s okay, Jimbo. There’s no sun in here.” Richard pulls the tarp away, revealing a weak smile and two police officers standing behind him. “It’s safe.”

He helps him to his knees and James’s heart breaks. The tone of his words don’t match the look on his face. Tears fall with every blink, despite how Richard tries to smile. James _hates_ seeing his big brother crying and it’s making him crumble quicker than anything else. He’s been crying this whole time, but it gets worse now. His vision blurs moments before Richard pulls him into a tight hug. James stifles a sob into his shoulder  and folds his wings around them both.

As much as he hates to acknowledge it, James already knew in that moment that they were the last of their family. The police aren’t going to make it in time, no matter how fast they drive. They might catch one witch, or maybe two. But they won’t be in time to save his parents.

An officer confirms it for him and Richard a few minutes later. After they gave them the news, James’s memories for the rest of the day are a complete blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please forgive the missed update last time! I moved that week and was just unable to meet the deadline while packing and working and all the stuff in between. I don't have internet at my new place until tomorrow either... sigh. Luckily! Mom has wifi and that's where I'm posting this! Enjoy!**
> 
>  
> 
> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

_** ** _

**_Tuesday – May 17 th, 2016_ **

By the time they finish recounting the story, Gabriel has a comforting hand on Castiel’s shoulder. He reaches back to cover it in a silent thank you. There isn’t a day that goes by where Castiel doesn’t miss their parents with every fiber of his being. This is a difficult story for him to get through and it’s a miracle that he managed do it without crying. If Gabriel wasn’t the one doing most of the talking, he might have been too choked up to tell it all.

Castiel takes a deep breath and leans into Gabriel’s touch. “That was the last time we saw our parents. There was nothing but gravel left of our father and the police didn’t want to go into detail about what happened to our mother.”

“And we never asked.” Gabriel squeezes his shoulder. “We have no idea how many Witches were at the house. I saw a big truck and a car, but there were only two people standing on the porch when we went tearing by. The front door was already open and the rest must have been inside. We’re lucky they didn’t even try to chase us.”

A lump rises in Castiel’s throat and he swallows around it. “If we had been registered with the FBI back then like we are now, they might still be alive today.” His nose starts to sting and he fights back against the tears he knows will come if they stay on this topic of conversation much longer. “We could have had better defenses, or a better warning system. We _should_ have been registered, but –”

Gabriel puts his other arm around him in a hug. “But not all Gargoyles are registered. Even the cops in Canton didn’t have a clue about our family until I had to tell them that I couldn’t get you out of the van in the sun like that. If it wasn’t for what happened to Mom and Dad, we probably wouldn’t even be on the FBI’s radar right now.”

This is all stuff that Castiel has heard before. It was fed to him on repeat like a broken record for _months_ after their parents died. Gabriel only meant for it to be comforting, but it rarely was. But that’s all in the past now and they’ve both moved on. Castiel has grown _so much_ since then and he can’t keep looking back. Of course he’s never going to forget his parents. He’ll still think about them every day; still talk to them sometimes when he’s alone and needs to get things off his chest that he can’t or doesn’t want to share with Gabriel.

Dean hasn’t said a word throughout the entirety of their story. Castiel has hardly been able to look at him, if only from how emotional it makes him to talk about this. But he looks now. He lifts his head to find him sitting with one leg folded on the bed. Nike has long finished eating and she’s now curled up in the 'V' of his lap. Dean is petting her, but it appears to be completely absentmindedly as he’s staring open mouthed at Castiel and Gabriel, clearly enraptured by everything they’ve told him.

All that focus is broken the instant Dean sneezes. It’s so loud and unexpected that it makes all three of them jump in surprise. Nike is even startled right out of his lap; bounding across the bed in a single leap with her tail twice its usual size. She leaves fur all over his lap and Castiel is only reminded of Dean’s cat allergy when the _third_ sneeze occurs.

“Gabriel, we need the –”

“Already on it, little bro.” Gabriel is off the bed and out of the room in a heartbeat, clearly having just remembered himself.

He disappears into his bedroom across the hall where he generally keeps the vast majority of his spell supplies. Hopefully he’ll have what he needs. It would be very annoying if his spell components have expired and he won’t be able to complete the one that purifies the building of allergens.

Castiel gets the box of tissues he keeps on his nightstand and passes them to Dean. “Here, use these for now. I’ll be right back.”

They have a lint roller in a basket on the shelf above their coat hooks and he all but runs to get that. Gabriel’s spell is complicated, but it also keeps Nike from shedding – which is why Castiel has to brush her so often. The moment Dean leaves here with all that fur on him, he’s going to start sneezing again and that just won’t do. With the lint roller, they’ll be able to get the fast majority of the dander and fur from his clothes. Hopefully it’ll save him from another allergy attack like this later on.

Since the majority of the cat fur is situated in Dean’s lap, Castiel leaves it to him to clean it up. He does hover nervously while Dean sneezes into the tissue he’s holding over his mouth and nose, and uses the sticky roll to clean his clothes. A tingle races across the back of Castiel’s neck a few minutes later, indicating the presence of a strong spell spreading through the building. Anyone with even a smidgen of magic in their blood would be able to feel it. Dean doesn’t react; reinforcing what Castiel already knew. He’s entirely Human with not a drop of magic in him.

Gabriel returns to the room with a smile on his face. “There. That should be better.” He claps his hands together as if he were dusting them off from a hard day’s work. There are runes drawn on his palms and he licks his thumb to start rubbing them off. “Try giving the air a sniff now, Dean-o.”

Castiel takes the lint roller and starts rolling the covers of his bed where Nike has been walking. He still watches closely as Dean lowers the tissue and takes a few deep breaths. After a moment, he sighs in relief and balls up the tissue to toss it into the trash can.

“Thanks, guys. I totally forgot all about that.”

“Us too.” Gabriel pats him on the shoulder, subtly wiping his hand off on his shirt. He ignores Castiel’s glare as he catches him doing it. “The spell isn’t permanent and it only has a lifetime of a few weeks before I need to renew it again.”

“Yes, Gabriel, thank you for your help.” Castiel throws the used sheets of the lint roller into the trash can. There’s one more thing he wants to ask of him, and he can just _feel_ a teasing storm brewing on the horizon because of this. He clears his throat and twists the handle of the lint roller between his hands. “If you’re up for it, there is one more spell that I’d like for you to do right now. Please.”

Immediately Dean sits up that little bit straighter, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He looks expectantly between the two of them. Castiel can practically see his tail wagging – were he a dog, that is. Gabriel takes one look at Dean before glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow. There’s more said in that one eyebrow than he could say in whole sentences. Dear God, but Castiel hopes he doesn’t say any of it.

“Let me guess…” He hums and crosses his arms, but brings one hand up to tap thoughtfully at his chin. “Does it have anything to do with why you’re _shirtless_? Don’t think for a second that I didn’t notice _that_ when I walked in.”

Lord have mercy. Castiel just barely resists the urge to cover his face as he feels his cheeks growing hot. He forces himself to keep calm as he nods. “Yes, please.”

Gabriel’s grin turns almost wolfish as he takes a flip knife from his pocket. There’s all manner of things left unsaid in his expression as he gestures for Castiel to come around to the end of the bed. When he joins him, he makes sure that he’s facing Dean – mostly because he wants to see his reaction to this. He hunches his shoulders and tries not to make a face at the usual weird feeling of blood sigils being drawn between his shoulder blades. No matter how many times it’s done, he never really gets used to it.

Dean’s jaw drops with an audible gasp as the first of the feathers starts to peel off and take their true shape. It makes his skin itch something awful as the ink lifts off his skin. Castiel rolls his shoulders as the muscle groups connected to his wings wake up again – pulling and shifting and aching slightly. He can’t take his eyes off Dean though; watching him while he tracks one of Castiel’s wings as it grows and spreads. It arches across the room until his primaries curve against the wall. Dean lets out a shaky breath when Castiel’s wings eventually fold against his back.

“Alrighty then.” Gabriel steps around him with his thumb in his mouth. “Is there anything else you need me to do or can I go take care of the whole Naomi situation now?”

Castiel raises his arms above his head to help stretch out all the muscles of his back. “That was everything, thank you.” He glances at Dean with a hopeful smile. “There’s still more that I would like to talk to you about, though. If you don’t mind sticking around?”

“Y-yeah.” Dean swallows thickly and nods again despite how he can’t stop watching his wings. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Again, Gabriel hums. This time more to himself than in amusement. He takes a step forward and snaps his fingers right in front of Dean’s face to get his attention. Dean blinks and tears his eyes from Castiel’s wings to look at him properly. “What?”

“Now that you know everything, I want to make one thing painfully clear to you.” Gabriel leans in until they’re nose to nose. “We’re putting our trust in you and you can’t tell a _soul_. Not your best friend; not your parents; not your brother. _No one_. Got it?”

The look of wonder Dean still has on his face drops in an instant, falling into seriousness. “Absolutely.”

“Good.” He pokes Dean in the chest as he straightens up again. “If you _do_ tell, just keep in mind that I know how to fuck you up in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“And that’s enough of that.” Castiel rolls his eyes and grabs Gabriel by the shoulder. He turns him and starts to march him from the room. “Thank you Gabriel. Your help has been very much appreciated but I think I can handle it from here.”

That does nothing to stop him from going straight into overprotective big brother mode. “I mean it!” Gabriel calls over his shoulder, even as he’s being shoved into the hallway. “I could make your dick fall off with just a few special words!”

Castiel grabs the edge of the door and shuts it with a huff. “That is _enough_.” He turns around with an apology on his lips, but it might be entirely unnecessary because Dean is staring at his wings again. “I’m sorry about him.”

“Don’t be.” Dean shrugs without looking away. “He’s a big brother. I would have said the same if Sammy and I were in the same situation as you guys.”

Are all big brothers the same? He shakes his head and fights the urge to smile. It might not be directly related to the ages of a brother. Family is family. As the younger brother, he would probably do the same for Gabriel. He’s just as protective over him considering he’s the only family he has left.

Now that Gabriel is out of the room, Castiel steps in front of Dean and spreads both his arms and his wings. “Well, this is it. This is the real me.”

Dean looks up at him again, this time with a smile crinkling in the corners of his eyes as his voice goes soft and warm. “I like the real you.”

It’s a compliment that Castiel can’t recall ever receiving. He can feel another blush incoming and his feathers rustle in delight. His reaction only makes Dean smile all the more. There’s a blush staining his cheeks too as he holds his hand out for Castiel to take. He pulls him down to sit next to him and align their palms properly so they can link their fingers.

Castiel looks down at their hands and fights to keep himself from smiling like a fool. It’s difficult, considering how much he likes the look of how their hands fit together. Dean’s palm is more calloused than his own; rough but still somehow so gentle. It’s nice and Castiel finds himself swaying to the side until their shoulders bump together. After a moment, Dean shifts his weight to lean into him too.

With the memories of his past so fresh in his mind, Castiel can’t help but think about how his father always used to stand or sit with his mother. No matter what they were doing, he would almost always have a wing curved around her shoulders. When he was growing up, Castiel used to look forward to being able to do that with a partner of his own someday. It was something he always wanted to do and now he has someone he wants to do it with. Would Dean mind if he did that? Probably not, given how he reacted to Castiel’s wings being released.

Slowly, he fans his left wing out past Dean’s shoulders and curves it around them. The soft sound of surprise Dean makes is almost like a squeak. Castiel rolls his lips between his teeth to hide his smile. He looks over to find Dean staring at the spill of black feathers tickling down his side. His fingers start twitching between his and he knows, without a doubt, that Dean is just _itching_ to touch them. It comes as no surprise when he asks to do just that a moment later.

His voice is a soft whisper when he turns wide eyes to Castiel. “Can I touch ‘em?”

Of course he can, and Castiel nods his approval. Regrettably it means that he has to let go of his hand, but that’s okay. If things go well today, then they can hold hands whenever he wants – as long as their schedules allow it, obviously. Castiel tucks both wings against his back and turns to present them to Dean. He fans them out again for more surface area to touch and holds his breath; bracing himself for it.

The first brush of a fingertip against his feathers is a surprising, almost foreign feeling for him. Try as he might, Castiel can’t stop himself from twitching his wings away. He does, however, manage to stifle a gasp. It’s not enough to drown out the quiet disappointed noise Dean makes. It’s a sound that tugs at his heartstrings and not one that he’ll want to hear again.

Castiel closes his eyes and forces himself to push his wings back into Dean’s touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Despite the feathers under his hands, Dean doesn’t move.

“No, not at all.” He shakes his head and drops his chin to his chest. “It was just – It caught me by surprise, is all. I’m not really used to having someone else touch them.” To emphasize that it’s okay, he fluffs and shifts his wings, rubbing them against Dean’s fingers.

Slowly, and a little bit uncertainly, Dean starts carding his fingers through the feathers. This is something Castiel could _easily_ get used to. The sensation tickles a little at first, but it quickly falls into the realm of _divine_ as Dean combs through the feathers. He teases the points of Castiel’s primaries, secondaries, and tertiaries, before sifting through the coverts and alula feathers. Massaging his wings never felt this good when he’s done it himself and it’s a struggle to keep something akin to a purr from rumbling deep within his chest.

Dean hums as he continues his dedicated exploration of Castiel’s wings. “Doesn’t Gabriel touch them?”

“Never.” Not for lack of trying. Gabriel has made several offers, but Castiel has refused them all if only because he was adamant that he could take care of them himself. “The last people to touch them were my parents when they used to help me preen as a child. I was more or less in charge of the upkeep of my wings for a few years before they died.”

The quiet hums turn inquisitive and Dean must lean forward, because Castiel can suddenly feel his breath on the back of his neck. “Preen? How do you do that?”

Should he show him? His oil glands are a part of his anatomy that Gabriel once teased him about as a child and Castiel has never really forgotten that. Even _he_ considers it weird, and he’s had the glands since he was born. All Creatures with feathered wings have them, so it’s really only considered odd by non-winged standards. Unfortunately that’s the vast majority of the population and he’s _certain_ that Dean has never encountered something like this before. In fact, he might not even know that most species of birds have them too.

Castiel fidgets for a few moments, deliberating if he should or shouldn’t show him. But this whole conversation is about telling the truth. He doesn’t want to hide anything from Dean anymore. Not even this. With that in mind, Castiel folds an arm up behind his back until he can feel the downy feathers near the base of his wings.

“Give me your hand.” He flex his fingers in a grabbing motion.

Dean complies and Castiel guides his hand up under the fluffy feathers. The moment his finger touch the walnut sized nub of the oil gland, Dean yanks his hand back with a strangled squeak. “What the _hell_ was _that_?”

Please don’t let him be disgusted by this. Castiel bites his bottom lip before answering. “The oil gland. It releases oil when squeezed and then I just spread it through my feathers to help keep them healthy, shiny, clean, and waterproof.”

After a moment of silence, Dean’s fingers are in his feathers again. They search out the gland on their own and he touches it gently, sizing it out by touch. “And you preen all by yourself now?”

Castiel sucks a sharp breath through his nose. It feels wholly different to have someone else touching them and he fists his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting again. “Y-yes.” He nods and swallows thickly. “Most days they’re hidden as the tattoos, so I don’t have to preen them as often as most feathered Creatures. Because of that, I can get away with doing it once every few months.”

Except, of course, for while he was away with the FBI for the last month and a bit. He didn’t bother hiding his wings then. There was no point since he never left the apartment they were stationed in, and Keith already knew about his wings. That meant he had to preen them more often than usual, but it was nice. Preening can be very calming for him.

“Can I help next time?” Dean searches out the gland under his other wing and teases it just the same before he continues with his exploration of Castiel’s wings. “Or can I watch, at least?”

“Maybe.” Castiel is glad to be facing the wall. It hides his smile and the dark blush he can feel rising in his cheeks. There’s nothing particularly _private_ about preening, but having Dean _watch_ or _help_ is making him feel preemptively embarrassed.

Despite how both of Castiel’s wings are the same, Dean takes his time feeling out each feather on both of them. It feels _so good_. The only way it could possibly be better is if Castiel was stretched out on his stomach and could just spread his wings over the edge of the bed. That way he wouldn't have to keep them tensed and poised to keep them open. He would be able to properly relax and he might even fall asleep if things continue like this.

Even then he’s still falling into a kind of daze. Castiel sways in place slightly, eyes slipping closed the longer Dean takes. It _is_ the middle of the afternoon, after all, and he would normally be sleeping right now. It would just be _so easy_ to fall asleep in the comfort of his own home and with his best friend next to him. He’s so zoned out, teetering on the edge of actually falling asleep, that he doesn’t even register that Dean has asked a question.

Dean has to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention again. “Hey, Ca– whoa!”

He ducks out of the way of a wing as Castiel turns to face him. “Sorry, I – What did you say?”

The look Dean gives him is filled with nothing but fondness. He laughs and settles back into his spot once Castiel’s wings are out of the way. “I said that I want to double back on the conversation we started having before. Y’know, the one we put on hold? Because I’m _super_ curious about how you guys knew to run. Did the FBI give you a warning or something? Or do you have an alarm? Or –”

Castiel holds up a hand and Dean’s jaw snaps shut. “I suppose I did gloss over all of that earlier.” He fixes him with a sheepish smile. “But I can and _will_ answer any questions that you have.” There’s no hesitation as he reaches for Dean’s hand again; addicted to the shiver he gets whenever they touch. “I don’t want to keep anymore secrets from you.”

_ _

Hah! He fucking _knew_ it. The crystal balls that Cas and Gabe have all over the café and house are more than just for decoration. They use them as part of a security system that’s linked to the pendants they wear. Dean has gotten a few glances of them every so often, but he never really thought to ask. He kinda figured they were just a fashion statement, or maybe they had something to do with powering up their magic. The one thing Dean _didn’t_ expect was that all of that  is linked to a crystal perimeter hidden around the town.

Now that he knows Cas was with the FBI for the last month and a half, it really makes sense that he never answered his phone. Dean does, however, commit to memory the cover stories they have for why they didn’t have their phones on them and for where they’ve been for the last month and a half. It does suck that they didn’t actually know where they were that whole time, but they’re home now so that’s all that really matters.

That said, Dean _definitely_ blushed right down to his toes when Cas made damn sure to point out that his voicemails and text messages were not only passed along, but actually helped him get through what was a rough bout of depression for him. After the first dozen messages and phone calls, Dean had stopped believing that they were making it through. They eventually just became something cathartic for _him_ since he was all but completely convinced that Cas was gone for good. Thank _God_ that he was proven totally wrong on that front.

Another surprising bit of news to is this whole thing about _Witchcon_. Dean’s never heard about that before, but he makes another mental note to keep an eye on it in the future. He can set up a Google Watch or get Charlie to devise something for him where he can scan the internet for anything having to do with the movement of Witches or unusual Witch activities. If they do _anything_ , then Dean wants to know about it because you can bet your ass that he’s going to be on high alert for the rest of his life. He’s going to have an eye out for anyone or anything suspicious from now until eternity.

It’s a whole hell of a lot to take in, but Dean still manages to find the time to marvel at how goddamn _smart_ Cas and Gabriel are. They picked the perfect home here in Montpelier. If they wanted to, they could have picked a place out in bum-fuck nowhere like their parents did back in Canton. Instead, they got a place that is literally in a direct line of sight of a _police station_. It’s standard for every station to at least have _some_ kind of strong magic user in their crew. No coven of Witches, black magic or not, would even _think_ of trying anything with the authorities only a few buildings away.

And that’s disregarding the fact that Montpelier is a pretty small town chock full of Fae. It’s a whole different ball game where they’re involved, but most people here tend to notice tourists as easily as they notice an air balloon in the sky. No one will be able to just come in and do anything of an impolite persuasion. It wouldn’t even help if they cut the power lines and the phone lines. People would notice and they would be out on the street with flashlights checking to see if their neighbours were okay. It would be pretty noticeable too if they did it to one specific building like _Trick or Treat_ and _The Graveyard Shift;_ a place that’s open twenty-four hours a day.

Seriously, they’re fucking _geniuses_. By being open twenty-four-seven, they’ve basically guaranteed that there is always someone watching the main floor. There are two doors down there to guard and it’s well watched, _plus_ they have normal alarm systems in place too. The only other entry to their apartment upstairs is through the roof access, but Cas explained about the magic surrounding that. Not to mention that people in this town are going to notice people milling about on rooftops or climbing up and down people’s fire escapes.

Dean sits through the whole story, asking questions here and there but otherwise trying hard not to interrupt. When Cas finishes telling everything there is to tell, so to speak, there’s really nothing else to say. Well, except for one thing.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” He rubs his thumb over the back of Cas’s hand and smiles. “And that you’re back. Welcome home, Cas.”

The smile he gets in return is like a ray of sunshine. “Me too.”

All the smiles Dean has been getting today are fucking _amazing_. He can’t remember ever seeing Cas smile this much before. There must have been so much about himself that he was hiding and holding in, yet here he is being all soft and sweet and _fuck_ if it doesn’t make Dean’s pulse start racing. Of course he’s not going to act on that just yet. That’s a whole other conversation for them to have, but at least it’s something to look forward to.

He’s not expecting Cas’s smile to suddenly slip into something a lot more serious. His feathers start to rustle and fluff up, doubling the size of his wings. Dean is having a _really_ hard time with not staring at them fucking constantly. They’re just – they’re so goddamn _gorgeous_. Like, holy shit. _Holy shit_. He’s basically a walking wet dream to Dean and those wings are so very _distracting_.

Cas looks down at where their fingers are linked together and squeezes his hand. His other one is starting to pick non-existent lint from his pants. He’s fidgeting. One hundred percent he’s _fidgeting_ and Dean honestly doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Eventually, Cas does look up at him from under his lashes and _hooboy_ that is _not_ a look Dean’s heart can handle right now.

“There is a reason that I’ve told you all of this.” He doesn’t get much louder than a whisper as he holds Dean’s hand particularly tightly. “There is a reason for why I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Dean’s pulse ratchets up a few notches more and his mouth suddenly goes dry. “Y-yeah?” Oh sweet Jesus this is it. This is _totally_ it.

His hand starts shaking as badly as his feathers are rustling and it’s just so very endearing. Dean takes them both in his to help keep them steady. That must give some kind of boost to Cas’s courage because he offers up another small smile. Too bad it doesn’t stick around for long and it falls into that uncertain, serious kind of sadness again.

After taking a ridiculously deep breath, Cas closes his eyes and lets it out slowly. “The reason that I’ve continued to reject your feelings, and the reason why I never said anything regarding my own, is because you didn’t know the truth.”

This is _definitely_ it. Dean tilts his head to try and catch Cas’s eye. “But I know _now_.” And he can’t wait for him to say why that matters.

Cas nods slowly, but he still doesn’t really lift his head. “And now you can make an informed decision. I didn’t want to make this choice for you without you knowing _everything_.”

Hold the phone. “What choice?”

If anything, Cas’s voice gets even _quieter_. “Whether to have a relationship with me or remain as nothing more than friends.”

Whoa, whoa, _whoa_. What now? Dean’s brow crinkles hard as he frowns. As far as he’s concerned, there’s really no competition between the two options. And that’s not just his lower half making the decision based on the _possibility_ of some physical attention. Nope, there’s a whole lot of heart speaking up too and it is _very_ vocal about how much it wants to be with Cas.

He must be able to tell what Dean is thinking, because Cas sighs softly and tightens his grip on his hands. “You have to make a choice because there’s a risk to being with me, Dean. There might be a day when I have to run – where I’ll have to disappear again and I might not be able to come back next time. When – _if_ that happens, the coven might try to use you to get to me and you might have to come with me for your own safety. Or things might not go so smoothly and you might –”

Even though Cas doesn’t finish his sentence, the ‘ _you might die_ ’ is still pretty fucking evident. Yeah, that’s a kinda scary thought, but Dean flirts with death every shift that he has a call. He’s not scared of dying. What he _is_ scared of is how strong the ache being his ribs is when he stops compartmentalizing the situation and thinks about it in its entirety.

For instance; the last month and a half has been shitty as _hell_ without Cas. Dean missed him so goddamn much and it was all he could do to keep himself busy enough to not notice the hole that was left in his life. He doesn’t even want to think about what it would be like with Cas gone indefinitely. At least next time, if it happened, Dean would know _why_ he’s gone. But it would still suck so hard to know that Cas was off somewhere with a new name and starting a new life and they would probably never get the chance to talk to each other again.

God, just _thinking_ about it is making him sick to his stomach. There are so many things that _could_ happen that it makes him dizzy if he tries to think about it all. But the thing is, Dean likes Cas. He likes him so much that sometimes it’s hard to _just_ be friends with him. If he decided to take the path of least resistance here and chose to not try dating him, then they would need a long fucking break for him to get over his feelings entirely.

In that situation, Dean would probably have to start seeing other people to help with it and he honestly doesn’t want to do that. Legit, you couldn’t _pay_ him to kiss someone else right now. Not after he’s learned that Cas likes him too. Plus he’ll have that to take into consideration. If Dean went off hooking up with other people while they’re still friends, it would probably hurt Cas a whole hell of a lot.

By the way, has he mentioned how awesome it is that Cas _likes_ him? It’s absolutely amazing and that last thing Dean wants to do is hurt him. All he wants to do is be with Cas now. Why is that such a difficult thing to ask for?

When he opens his mouth to put those thoughts into actual words, Cas holds up one of his hands to stop him. “There’s more that you need to consider when it comes to a relationship with a Gargoyle.”

“Like what?” Dean frowns again.

“There’s a reason that I told you about my parents, and it’s not just because I want you to know the truth.” Cas rubs a hand over his face and his wings start to droop. “You need to understand that there might come a day when I’m taking _the sleep_ and the coven comes calling. If such a time comes, you might have to make the same choice my mother did.”

He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to meet Dean’s eyes again. “And it might cost you the same it did her. That’s the reason I was so hesitant where you’re concerned. I wasn’t comfortable even trying to have a relationship with you until you knew what risks you would be taking to be with me.”

While this does make Dean happy, it’s also breaking his heart. Cas almost looks like he’s in _pain_ as he’s admitting this. And suddenly it’s another one of those slap-you-in-the-face kind of light bulb moments for him. The bottom of his stomach drops and Dean damn near sways in place as the full realization hits him.

Cas’s parents died when he was _thirteen_. He’s something like twenty-six now and he’s never been in a relationship. In all that time, Cas has never been close to anyone; never been kissed and never had sex. He never even made any friends outside of his _work_ before Dean came along. Has he been that fucked up by what happened to his mom because of his dad? Has that been hanging over his head like this for _that_ long? Has he been _afraid_ to be with anyone?

If he felt like his heart was breaking before, then Dean doesn’t have words for the pain radiating in his chest right now. Cas is just so fucking awesome and he deserves so much love in his life. He’s funny, smart, and he _actually_ laughs at Dean’s jokes. They honestly enjoy their time together and Dean wants everyone to know how amazing Cas is. He doesn’t deserve the kind of loneliness that he’s had to live through.

The silence has dragged on a little too long for Cas’s liking, apparently. He forces a smile and stands up, tugging Dean’s hand to make him stand up too. “Now that you know everything and why I’ve told you, I’d like for you to take some time to think about all of this.” His smile is too sad for Dean’s liking, but his eyes are so full of hope. “I’m not going to rush you into a decision. Just –”

Oh _fuck_ no. Dean has had a month and a half of ‘ _just thinking_ ’. He thought himself to sleep almost every night and spent way too much time staring off into space while lost in his thoughts. Yeah, maybe he never really considered the fact that dating Cas means that he might _die_ , but he _did_ think a lot about the other kind of future they could have together. Dean spent a lot daydreaming about Cas coming home and the two of them dating, and what they would do if he had to run again.

He thought about that _a lot_ and he always came back to the old adage; _it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all._ There was once a time when Dean thought that saying was really dumb, but this isn’t an experience he wants to miss out on. Dean doesn’t want to wake up in fifty or sixty years and regret that he never took a chance with Cas just because he was worried about getting hurt.

So that’s why he stops Cas in the middle of his sentence. That’s why he steps in, cupping the back of his neck with one hand to pull him in, and _kisses him_ quiet. Dean’s eyes are closed so he can savour this moment for what it’s worth, but he can feel the flutter of Cas’s eyelashes as he blinks in surprise. Cas takes a sharp breath through his nose as he goes completely and utterly still. The only thing about him that moves, aside from the blinking, are his wings. One hits the wall to Dean’s left and the other spreads out so sharply that it surprises Nike into an annoyed meow as she goes skittering off the bed.

At any other point in time, having Cas’s wings spread like this is something that Dean would want to see. But he’s been _dying_ to kiss him for, like, _forever_ and he is very much distracted by that. For instance, how can he not focus more on how fucking _soft_ Cas’s lips are? They’re a little bit dry, but so soft and so goddamn _perfect_. Yup, Dean can die happy now because he’s kissed Cas and that’s awesome.

His intention was to keep it short; just a little smooch to stop Cas from talking. But as Dean starts to pull away, Cas leans into it and utterly destroys what he was planning on saying. He was _going_ to say that he’s ready to face anything their future throws at them because he doesn’t want to miss out on this, but now Cas is closing his eyes and hesitantly kissing him back, his feathers rustling while his wings move and _oh man_. This is everything Dean’s been dreaming about and, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, it is _fucking awesome_.

It’s a bit of a risk here, but Dean steps in a little more. He almost holds his breath as he lets go of Cas’s hand to put an arm around his waist and bring him that little bit closer. The hand on the back of Cas’s neck slips down so he can put his arm around his shoulders. Even though it kills him a little, Dean pulls out of the kiss; transitioning it right into a hug as he presses his face to the side of Cas’s neck. It’s a little surprising and a lot amazing when Cas hugs him back tight enough that it actually hurts a little bit.

A shaky breath washes over Dean’s shoulder. It probably shouldn’t, but it totally makes him smile. Cas is shaking slightly and his wings are a trembling mess against his back, and here Dean is grinning like a fucking idiot. Maybe it’s because he finally got to kiss Cas, or maybe it’s because Cas kissed him back. Maybe it’s because Cas is home and he missed Dean too, or maybe it’s because he wants a relationship and he’s being all sorts of open and honest with him. There’s just so many reasons to smile, but all of them are because of Cas.

Dean waits until the shaking stops and Cas seems to have settled down before he steps back just enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve already thought about it, Cas. In fact, I couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it while you were gone. Even though I only knew a little bit from speculation and what I found on the internet, I definitely thought about this _a lot_.”

Cas stares at him, his mouth open into a soft little ‘o’. His eyes are wide and bright; the blue of them so vibrant it gives away that he’s not-quite Human. They’re fucking _gorgeous_ and the mushy gag-you-with-a-spoon part of Dean wants to stare at them for the rest of eternity. God, he’s such a _sap_.

“I thought about it, Cas, and I’m gonna roll the dice.” He shrugs and smiles. “Like you said; I don’t want any regrets either.”

The smile he gets in answer starts slow, but Cas’s blush doesn’t. He ducks his head and leans in to press his face against Dean’s shoulder. Obviously he’s trying to hide how he’s practically fucking _glowing_ and holy shit this is going to _kill_ Dean. His wings are fluffing up to an insane degree and they’re totally giving away how happy he is. The urge to pet his wings is _ridiculous_ right now and Dean resists it, if only because the hug is pretty damn great on its own.

After a minute, Cas breathes out against his shoulder again. “Thank you, Dean.” He squeezes him a little tighter. “I’ll get you a necklace like mine so you’ll get the same warning I will.”

Maybe laughing might not be the right thing to do right now, but dropping a kiss to the side of Cas’s head as he steps back definitely is. “Whoa. Matching jewelry already, Cas? Don’t you think we’re rushing things a bit?”

He has to literally swallow his laughter when Cas’s head pops up; eyes wide and very suddenly _afraid_. “A-are we?”

Oh dear _God_. Dean’s knees get a little weak at just how _worried_ Cas looks. Keeping upright takes more concentration than he thought it would and he loses his grip on his laughter. A little giggle bubbles up and Cas’s worry twists straight into a half-smile and half-frown kind of deal. He pulls out of the hug completely and socks Dean in the shoulder. It’s been a month and a half since they’ve hung out together and Cas’s punches still sting – which is just another reminder that he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

Dean rubs his shoulder and flashes Cas a grin. “Oh c’mon now! You can’t tell me you didn’t miss my wit.” He throws in a wink for good measure. “ _And_ my charm.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but the smile is winning out over his frown. After a few moments, he gives in and shakes his head. “Yes, I _did_ miss you. I believe we’ve already covered that, thank you.”

“But it’s still _so_ nice to hear.” With a laugh, Dean catches his hand again because that’s totally a thing he can just _do_ now and it’s fucking amazing. “I missed ya’ too, bud.” His other hand moves on its own while the sappy part of him is still sorta in control and reaches up to cup the side of his neck again. “And I’m glad your back, safe and sound.”

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If he’s going to be a gigantic girl about all of this, then he might as well just _do_ it. But if Gabriel is listening outside that door and he tells _anyone_ about this, Dean will absolutely die and he’ll make sure to take that clown with him. But for now, he’s all for this bleeding heart chick-flick moment as he leans in until their foreheads bump together.

He had his doubts about all the sappiness but those get blown out of the water when Cas sways into him. In fact, Dean absolutely adores it right down to how Cas clumsily tries to find a good place to rest his own hands, and especially by how much he blushes. He might be a little awkward about eventually settling his hands on Dean’s hips, but his grip gives away his eagerness to touch – and maybe even _be_ touched himself.

It might have been a while since they’ve seen each other, but Dean can still read Cas like a book. The way his wings twitch forward around his shoulders like he wants to wrap them around him is fucking adorable. After a minute, it really hits him. Cas has probably been craving physical contact for a really long time. Luckily he’s got someone who _loves_ giving it and can’t _wait_ to give Cas all the love and physical contact that he wants.

“I might not have magic like your brother, but I’ll do what I can to help keep you safe.” Dean hums softly and rubs his thumb along the edge of Cas’s jaw because he can’t stop being amazed by the fact that he’s allowed to do that now. “Even if all I can do is keep your secret, I’ll do my best, okay?”

“That’s more than enough, Dean. Thank you.” Cas’s smile is so genuine and perfect and it makes Dean’s insides go goopy again. “But please remember to keep yourself safe too. I would be _very_ upset if anything were to happen to you because of me.”

Dean leans back enough to give himself the space to draw an ‘X’ on his chest. “Cross my heart and hope _not_ to die.”

Any attempt at a glare Cas tries to give him is completely and utterly ruined because he can’t stop smiling. It’s just so _nice_ to see him so full of smiles. Dean is quickly running out of ways to describe how _awesome_ this moment is. But who needs to think when he has that tempting smile right in front of him? He knows the feel of those lips and it’s been too long since their last kiss. Has he mentioned yet how awesome it is that he can _do_ that now?

This time, when Dean leans in, Cas’s wings fluff and spread again but he leans in too. They meet in the middle and it’s sweet, sweet perfection. Cas is a little off his mark and he’s puckered his lips too much, but Dean never wants to leave it. Things like this are easy enough to fix and he is _more_ than prepared to teach Cas the ins and outs of kissing.

“Just relax.” He murmurs and presses a thumb under Cas’s bottom lip to help stop him from doing that ridiculous pucker. “Do what I do.”

Cas huffs through his nose but does as he’s told, his hands fisted tightly in Dean’s t-shirt over his sides. Oh jeeze, if he thought things were perfect before – then this actually _surpasses_ it. They’re so soft and gentle and pretty much the best thing ever. Is it just because he’s kissing Cas that he feels like there’s little bolts of lightning firing along his nerves, or is it because it’s been _way_ too long since he last kissed someone? Man, when even _was_ that?

Thinking back now, it must have been that guy when he went to the club with Charlie well before he ever met Cas. That guy had _way_ more beard than Cas’s stubbly five o’clock shadow. The stubble is rougher than the beard, but Dean likes it better and not just because this is _Cas_ kissing him right now. Either way, he could _definitely_ get addicted to this – if he isn’t already, that is. Actually, it would probably be a really good idea for them to _stop_ now before he takes Cas’s first sweet innocent kisses somewhere dirty way too soon.

It fucking nearly kills Dean when Cas makes a soft noise of disappointment in the back of his throat as he steps back out of arm’s reach. He’s got a little awestruck kind of expression going right now which is pretty fucking awesome in its own right. Dean is maybe more than a little proud for being the one who put that look there with just a few kisses. But it’s _really_ not helping his situation right now. His blood is starting to burn and he _really_ needs to take a breather. If he’s not careful, he might lose control of himself and take things a little further than they should right now. Oh _God_ but he _really_ doesn’t want to stop. Dean would love to just sit them both down and make out like they’re teenagers again.

“Why did you stop?” Cas frowns at him, his eyes narrowing into a disgruntled squint. “If you’re feeling guilty about kissing me without asking, don’t be. I would have stopped you again if I didn’t want it.”

“Holy _crap_ , Cas.” Dean rubs both hands over his face and turns away. That’s seriously not helping the whole _wanting to keep kissing him_ problem. He clears his throat and turns to face him. “We should – we need to slow it down here.”

And that’s going to be _so hard_ with Cas’s lips looking as incredibly tempting as they do right now. Dean takes a deep breath through his nose and makes himself look away. “This is your first _everything_ and I don’t think we should – should – we shouldn’t _rush_ into anything.”

Cas blinks out of his angry squint into a confused frown. “We’ve been dancing around each other for _months_. Could this still be considered _rushing_?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. “You’ve got a point, but so do I. This is my first relationship with a dude and your first relationship _period_.” Dean waves a hand at Cas and then at the bed. “Besides that, you’re shirtless and we’re standing a foot from your bed. The bed I just spent the last, like, seven hours accidentally sleeping in, by the way.”

The look Cas turns on the bed is nothing short of murderous. It’s the first time Dean’s ever seen someone _glare_ at a piece of furniture like that. He can’t help laughing again and he shakes his head. “I dunno about you, Cas, but there’s certain implications to this kind of situation that I’m having trouble ignoring. I just think we should slow things down, y’know? We should feel things out as we go.”

“I understand.” Cas sighs and his wings droop slightly. When he looks back to him, he’s softened into a smile that’s bordering on a pout. “If we’re going to take things slow, then I guess that means you’re planning on going now, hm?”

“Now that you mention it, that’s probably a good idea.” As much as he hates to admit it. If Dean could have his way, he would like to crawl back into bed with Cas and cuddle him to sleep. “It’s the middle of the afternoon and you should be sleeping right now. I need to stay awake for the rest of the day or I might mess up my sleeping rhythm.”

Cas’s pout gets more defined, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to argue the point. “I _am_ fairly tired.” His wings droop a little more and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Do – do you know when we might see each other again?”

“Well why don’t you text me when you wake up tonight?” Because fuck if Dean wants to be away from Cas for very long right now. “I should go home and shower, change, eat. The works. I’ll waste time around the house and then come over for dinner so we can talk some more. How does that sound?”

For something hidden so often, Cas’s wings are pretty expressive. They perk right up and fluff a little. “I like the sound of that.”

“Great!” Now Dean has something to look forward to about today. It’s going to be _so_ nice to be able to look forward to seeing Cas again. He’s really been missing that the last month and a half. Oh! That reminds him; “Hey, when is _The Graveyard Shift_ going to open again?”

“I’m hoping to open it again tomorrow.” Cas glances at the calendar next to the door. He looks surprised for a moment before smiling. “Thank you for changing my calendar, and for taking care of our home while we were gone.”

Dean shrugs and ducks his head. “Don’t worry about it.” It’s not like he was doing it just to try and make it seem like Cas was still around or something like that. “Anyways, I should go. I guess – uh – one of the things we should talk about tonight is how we’re going to deal with this whole sleeping schedule issue we’re gonna be facing.”

Cas passes him to pull the door open and Dean is a little bit surprised to find that Gabriel _isn’t_ listening on the other side of it. “I agree. That should be on our list of the things to talk about. Hanging out every weekend was nice when we were just friends, but –” His wings double in size and curve over his shoulders. “But I want to see you more than that.”

Not only did the wings make Cas ten times hotter, but he’s also ten times _cuter_. “Y-yeah, me too.” Dean tries so very hard not to swoon as he catches Cas’s hand to pull him back for a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’ll figure it out. If worse comes to worst, you can just let me borrow your bed while you do your thing during the night.”

His wings flex and shuffle against his back as Cas leans into Dean slightly. “Mm. I might never get anything done if we do that. I’ll just want to watch you all night.”

Dean snorts a laugh against Cas’s shoulder before all but shoving him out the door. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, I should get going before I end up never leaving.” That’s not such a bad thing, really, but he’s also got some good reasons for why he _should_ leave right now. He starts the short trek to the kitchen, but glances over his shoulder. “You want me to bring food with me when I come back tonight?”

That gets Cas to perk up considerably, wiping away the pout that was forming again. He nods almost excitedly. “Please. I missed your cooking.”

And here comes the blush. Hasn’t Dean done that enough already? “Well, if you get any requests before falling asleep or after you wake up, just text me.” Speaking of texting; “I need your new number anyways. But if you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll just surprise you.”

Cas nods again, almost bouncing in place. It’s so ridiculously adorable and dear _God_ , Dean just opened a hell of a can of worms. It’s going to be damn near impossible to _not_ kiss him whenever they’re together. He’s fighting the urge to crowd him up against the nearest surface to do just that for the rest of the day. Lord have mercy. This had better not be some kind of stupid fever dream or something equally not real. If Dean wakes up to find out that he imagined this whole thing where he and Cas _aren’t_ –

That thought brings Dean to a dead stop at the door. He turns on his heel to face Cas. “Hey, are we – are we a _thing_ now?”

With a hum, Cas’s brows come together in a little frown. “I am not the best authority to ask regarding that, but I believe the term you’re looking for is _couple_.” He steps past to unlock the door and fiddles with the handle instead of turning around. “However, I should point out that I – I think I might be the – the _jealous_ type.”

Dean grins and quickly slips on his boots. He grabs his windbreaker off the coat rack and pulls it on before he hooks an arm around Cas’s waist to pull him around to face him. “Then I guess that makes me all _yours_ , sunshine.” And he definitely has no intention of cheating. “Just keep in mind that I’m the jealous type too so don’t go flirting with your customers.”

Cas’s feathers start ruffling something awful and he goes cherry red right into his chest. He tries stuttering out some kind of explanation about how he’s _never_ flirted with his customers, but he never gets the full sentence out. He’s absolutely _gorgeous_ like this and Dean frames the image in his memory before he steals a kiss.

One thing he’s _never_ going to get tired about kissing Cas is the way he sways into him. His hands always seek out a white-knuckled grip on his arms, his sides, his hips, his shoulders – anywhere they can grab. It’s so goddamn endearing and it makes it _so hard_ to stop kissing him.

His will must be made of iron because Dean eventually does manage to step away. Not only that, but he actually manages to make it out the door and to the top of the stairs. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

That awestruck haze is back in Cas’s eyes. He hums again and lifts his hand in a wave; his wings still shuffling against his back. Dean can’t help grinning as he puts his hands in his pockets and takes one step down. His fingers close around something cold and hard and he stops.

“Oh, here.” He turns and holds his hand out with the apartment key on his palm. “Balthazar gave me this. I figure I should give it back now.”

“You can keep it.” Cas blinks at the key before he shakes his head. “I’m aware that sharing house keys is farther along in a relationship, but as my best friend before that – I want you to have it.”

Aw man. Dean’s insides go all squirmy again. When they do that, he just _has_ to kiss Cas again. Thankfully he’s not too far yet to go back and do just that. He goes up and pulls Cas into another kiss; keeping it short and sweet.

It leaves Cas blinking again; dazed and looking just a little confused. “What – what was that for?”

“You make me happy.” Dean shrugs and bumps his forehead against Cas’s.

“You’re happy because I’m letting you have my key?”

Dean nods and steals another quick kiss before forcing himself to step back again. “That and, y’know, for trusting me with the truth about everything.”

Cas goes red and his wings triple in size. Dean struggles with two very separate urges; one to kiss him again, and the other to grin like the fool he is. Instead, he tries to force himself to at least look a _little_ bit serious right now. A question just occurred to him and it should be asked, like, _right now_.

“You – you’re okay with this, right?” He catches Cas’s hand and squeezes it. “I don’t really know what boundaries you want to set unless you tell me, okay?”

“I know.” Cas nods, his jaw set in determination. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. “We’ll talk about that later tonight. I’m okay with the kisses right now.” He gives Dean a little shove and makes a shooing motion with his other hand. “Now go before you end up never leaving.”

And again he doesn’t _want_ to leave, but he should. There’s stuff he needs to do and Cas should really get some sleep. He just _hates_ the idea of leaving right now. At least he’s leaving a little bit starry eyed as he waves goodbye.

“See you later, Cas.” He shoves his hands in his pockets again and heads downstairs before anything else will distract him.

There’s definitely pep in his step because holy _fuck_ today is ten billion times better than it was when he fell asleep earlier. He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears the apartment door shut. Then and only then does he allow himself to start whistling. Hell, if he wasn’t on stairs right now then he’d jump and click his heels together. When was the last time he was _this_ fucking happy? He can’t remember but it feels absolutely _amazing_.

And that feeling crinkles up on itself the moment he reaches the bottom of the stairs and remembers that there are still other people in the building. Jess and Sam are on him before he’s even stepped off the last step. They don’t ask questions, but they _look_ at him with their eyes and their eyebrows and stupid dumb grins that just _scream_ their unasked questions. Of course Dean just wants to gush about what happened and scream it from the rooftops, but he also toys with the idea of playing coy about it.

Maybe he can do a little bit of both?

Dean shrugs, moving his eyebrows up and down in sync with his shoulders. Instead of saying anything, he brushes past them and heads out into the front end of the café. It looks like shift change is underway because both Anna and Tessa are working, and usually they’re not here at the same time. Balthazar has also made an appearance now and he’s sitting with Gabriel and Naomi. There’s paperwork on the table and the three of them seem to be wrapped up in the depths of a conversation that Dean doesn’t want to interrupt. Not that he would, of course.

Unfortunately, it seems his mere presence is apparently a _massive_ distraction to everyone. It doesn’t help that he has a little entourage following him; Sam and Jess practically stepping on his heels. Tessa and Anna have stopped too and are watching him, which involves Tessa’s head popping up over the top of the display case while she's in the middle of cleaning it. Anna turns around on the step ladder she’s using to help stack cups on the shelves above the coffee machines.

To make matters worse, Gabriel and Balthazar have also stopped talking with Naomi. They’ve turned in their seats to look at him. It’s like being under a spotlight and Dean is reminded of that time in the middle of his Grade 7 choir recital where puberty hit right in the middle of his solo and his voice cracked _horribly_. This is giving him the nervous sweats and he pointedly ignores everyone as he crosses the café to the front door. Thank God there aren’t any customers to get wrapped up in this too.

Dean has the door halfway open before Sam uses his annoyed little brother tone. “ _Dean_!”

He stops and turns to look back at everyone. This is where he _could_ tell them, but then he’ll just get held back with questions or congratulations or God knows what. To be truthful, he doesn’t want to deal with that right now. Or not in public, at least. He’ll be dealing with it enough when he gets home to give Charlie the good news.

With that in mind, the only thing he gives everyone here now is a grin and a wink. He ducks out quickly before anyone can ask him anything else. Of course he still takes his phone out while he’s crossing the street and sends Sam a text message. It would be too cruel to _not_ tell his little brother about some of the biggest news in his life. Especially considering that Sam is one of the few people Dean has officially come out to regarding his bisexuality and his attraction to Cas.

**_I’ve got a boyfriend!_ **

For now, he’ll keep it simple. When Sam is done his shift today, he can come over and they’ll talk about it more, or he can call or text or whatever. For now, Dean just wants to bask in this amazing feeling. He’s got a boyfriend – his _first_ boyfriend. Holy _shit_. That’s amazing and he’ll think about having to tell his parents about it at another time.

Right now he’s going to savour the feeling of walking on clouds and how it carries him all the way back to the Impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by: [riseofthefallenone](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/)  
> Co-author and artist: [purgatory-jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like what you've seen and like what you've read, please consider giving us both a follow over on our tumblrs. :) And make sure to give Purgatory-Jar all the love for the wonderful work she's doing with the art and the story! We're mad, unstoppable geniuses ♥
> 
> [[Dean's House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151428803938/deans-house-with-his-roommates-jo-and-charlie)] | [[Winchester House](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151429201543/the-winchester-family-home-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Map of Montpelier](http://riseofthefallenone.tumblr.com/post/151430669973/montpelier-vermont-usa-the-graveyard-shift)] | [[Fic Art by Purgatory-Jar](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/tagged/graveyardshiftAU)]

_ _

**_Thursday – May 19, 2016_ **

It’s rare that Dean _willingly_ wakes up hours before he’s supposed to be at work. On any other occasion, he would actually _hate_ being up this early. This time, however, he’ll make the exception – if only because he was almost too excited to sleep last night. It’s five o’clock in the morning and he’s as naturally wired as he will be a few hours from now once he’s had his usual coffee from the café. But he’s only going to be drinking that on his way to the station for his shift.

There is no way to overstate just how _excited_ Dean is. He quite literally has a bounce in his step as he crosses the street to the café. It just made sense to park at the station instead of on the street or behind the café. He’d have to move it in a few hours anyway so he might as well just put it where it’s supposed to go. The walk is super short anyways, so it’s pretty negligible in the end. Of course parking is, like, one of the furthest things from Dean’s mind – especially once he walks into the café to Cas is sitting behind the counter while folding his origami. He lights up when he sees Dean and it feels like everything is right with the universe again.

As happy as he is to see him, Dean kinda hates knowing that there’s a time limit to how long they get to see each other this time. The weather app he checked this morning said that the sun is going to be up in less than thirty minutes. Cas’s schedule is going to be changing slightly now. He’s going to have even less time out and about, and especially on the days that he’s going to be taking _the sleep_. Coincidentally, that happens to be today and that is exactly what Dean is here to see him about.

On the days that Cas doesn’t need to take his stone sleep, he’ll have to stay up in the apartment where there’s no sunlight. If it’s like that, he can wake up or go to bed whenever he wants. His work schedule is going to suffer, though. As far as Dean knows, they’re not going to arrange to have anyone come in and cover his shift. Balthazar is already here during the week and he’s basically done all his baking by the time Cas has to go upstairs, so he should be able to cover the front for the few hours before Cas’s shift really _is_ supposed to end.

And of course Gabriel’s shift starts at the same time Cas will be heading upstairs, so he can deal with any pressing bread related things while Balthazar handles the front. It’s usually not that busy at that time of the morning anyways. Dean doesn’t usually frequent the café in the morning, but he’s pretty sure that the early rush starts _after_ Cas’s shift ends. Probably. At least that makes sense to him.

Cas gets up from his stool and comes around the counter to greet Dean. He lifts his arms like he’s going for a hug, but he pulls back before going in for it and glances at the customer in the corner. Dean didn’t even realize anyone was here. It’s just Chuck though with his mess spread out over his usual group of tables. His back is legitimately to them, so there’s no point in being awkward about anything. Which is why Dean rolls his eyes and grabs Cas’s hand. He pulls him forward and steps in to press a small kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth, and that’s only because he turned his face away.

Okay, so, apparently Cas isn’t much of a Public Displays of Affection person. Or, at least he isn’t in his workplace. Dean can understand that, and he can deal with it too. They haven’t really found their footing when it comes to PDA anyways, especially because Dean needs to worry about his parents finding out. He’ll figure out a time to tell them at some point, probably. Just not right now. Things are still way too new to bring his parents in on this.

And those are thoughts Dean doesn’t need to have right now. He shoves those thoughts out of his head and flashes Cas a smile. “G’morning sunshine.”

A blush fills Cas’s cheeks and he quickly ducks back behind the counter. “Good morning, Dean.”

Hopefully Dean will be able to keep Cas blushing like that for a long time. He leans his hip on the counter and watches the last of an origami dragon get folded. “You ready to head up for the day?”

“I am. Just a moment.” Cas nods and finishes off his dragon. He pulls a box out from under the counter and sweeps all his dragons into it. “Chuck, I’m done for today. If you need anything else, Balthazar will be covering the counter.”

Chuck doesn’t even look up from whatever book he’s working on right now. He does manage a grunt though, and he waves a hand over his shoulder. The other keeps typing, which is kind of impressive. Dean is a decent typist, but he doesn’t think he would be able to keep that up. At least not at the speed that Chuck is working at – especially once he puts his other hand down again and they both start tap-tap-tapping away at the keys.

Once Cas has all his stuff put away, he steps out from behind the counter and holds his hand out. Dean takes it and has to suppress what could have been a very unmanly squeal of delight when their fingers link together. Is he maybe _too_ happy that he and Cas are dating now? It’s possible, but screw anyone who tries to tell him otherwise. He’s going to be deliriously happy _forever_ and no one is going to stop him from feeling it.

Cas squeezes his hand leads him through the kitchen. Balthazar is in the process of bagging up his loaves of bread, and Gabriel is setting all the things that he needs to get started on baking for the day. They both stop what they’re doing the moment Cas and Dean step into the kitchen and they just start _grinning_. It’s the kind of grin that makes Cas ignore their existence completely. Dean, on the other hand, at least nods in greeting before he’s all but dragged up the stairs.

It’s not until their actually in the apartment with the door firmly shut behind them that Cas goes for any actual PDA. He turns and steps into a hug and a stiff, awkward little kiss. Dean melts into it because it’s just so sweet. Cas is definitely getting better at the kisses though. He doesn’t pucker like he did that first time and he’s more confident of himself. Not a whole lot, but there is definitely a marked improvement.

They’ve only been dating for a few days, so it’s completely understandable that they haven’t really progressed past soft kisses. Dean hasn’t exactly brought up kissing with _tongue_ yet, but he’s sure that Cas will get there eventually. He’ll patiently wait for the day that they can actually _make out_ like giddy teenagers again. It’s been _so long_ for him and he’s excited to be the first one to show Cas how awesome a good make out session can be. And if that leads to _other_ fun things, well then he’s downstairs brain is just running off on him and he should _really_ reign it back in.

That gets done for him as the door opens behind him and bumps against his back. Dean knows who it is before words are even spoken. “Oops, sorry to interrupt!” Gabriel squeezes through and steps past him, his eyebrows already wiggling like the asshole he is.

While Dean contemplates running to the living room to throw himself out the window, Cas turns a deadly glare on his brother. “Can we _help_ you, Gabriel?”

“Actually, I came up to help _you_.” He raises his thumb with one hand and holds up his pocket knife with the other. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Cassie, but it’s a _sleep_ day, isn’t it?”

Cas’s glare eases up completely and he steps out of Dean’s arm. “Yes, it is, thank you. And I’m going to be taking it on the roof this morning.”

Fucking _yes_. Dean is so excited for this. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the weather app again. “You don’t have long then. They’re saying sunrise is in less than twenty minutes, at best.”

There wasn’t much point to him saying that, because Cas is already starting to unbutton his shirt to take it off. Part of Dean thinks he should look away, but he doesn’t. He also doesn’t openly stare, though it’s _really hard_. Cas is his boyfriend now, but that doesn’t mean he should ogle him – and especially with Gabriel standing _right there_ with his vaguely supernatural ability to notice things that he’s not supposed to be noticing. But it’s _really_ hard to pretend like he’s not openly staring (with his mouth open, mind you) when Cas’s wings are being released. They’re just – they’re so goddamn _gorgeous_ and Dean has to bite back an audible groan.

Dear God he is _definitely_ a pervert with a hell of a wing kink.

“Thank you, Gabriel.” Cas rolls his shoulders and flexes his wings. “You can go downstairs now.”

Dean bites his lip to keep quiet and he twists Cas’s shirt between his hands. It was handed off to him before the short little ritual was started and Dean is very close to ripping it in half. His self-control should be applauded for being able to keep his hands to himself fright now.

“I plan to.” Gabriel is watching Dean watching Cas and he knows it, but he tries his best not to acknowledge it. “Oh, I put what you asked for in your bedroom, by the way.”

He winks when Dean glances at him, a little curious to see what he means. But that’s all the information given before Gabriel ducks out the door again. Cas wastes zero time in shutting the door behind him; even going so far as to lock it so they won’t be disturbed again for a while. It’s a pretty ineffective means of obtaining privacy, to be honest. Gabriel _does_ have a key to the apartment, after all. Dean isn’t going to point that out, though. He doesn’t want Cas to be annoyed with him and potentially ban him from being allowed to see him take _the sleep_ this morning.

Cas rolls his eyes as he turns around, but stops suddenly. Dean is watching his wings more than he is him, so he only sort of notices how Cas tilts his head to the side with a smiling curling the corners of his mouth. “You really like my wings, hm?”

“Guilty.” Dean doesn’t even try to deny it. He reaches out to sift his fingers through the closest feathers, but he stops and reels himself back in. “Nope, we don’t have the time for another wing massage today.”

That draws a quiet laugh out of Cas and he steps in to press a quick kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Another time, then. I enjoy the last one you gave me.”

But that was _days_ ago and Dean hasn’t touched them since. He could hardly keep his hands off his wings when he came back Tuesday evening. It was a nice way to keep the both of them relaxed while they hammered out the finer details of their relationship. They decided for both their sakes that they’re going to take things slow. This is a lot of firsts for them both and they need to find their way through it.

For example, Dean might like the _idea_ of having a cock in his mouth, but he gets the nervous shakes when thinking about _actually_ doing it. Otherwise, he would have gone out and already done all that after he figured out that he likes guys too. Whatever. That’s something they’re going to have to lead up to and the both of them agreed that physical intimacy is on the back burner while they settle into the shift in the paradigm of their relationship – as Cas put it. Dean is totally okay with that, though. He just wishes they could find more time to be together.

They can never really spend a _whole_ day together because Dean stays awake during the day and that’s when Cas sleeps. And the most time they can hang out is on the weekend but some of those days Dean actually works. On weekdays, Cas works overnight so they don’t get very many hours in the evening or the morning to hang out. Their mismatched schedules are probably going to be the hardest thing to handle in this relationship and Dean has never hated the sun more in his life.

Cas takes his hand again to lead him to the bedroom. There’s a little box sitting on the bed and he picks it up. “Here, this is for you.” He passes it off to Dean and makes a spinning gesture. “Now turn around and don’t you dare peek. I have to change.”

“Spoilsport.” Dean sticks his tongue out before he turns to face the wall. He has no intention of peeking but holy shit does his pulse crank up a few speeds when he hears Cas’s pants hit the floor. Even with a gift in his hand, holy _shit_ is it hard to stay distracted from thinking about Cas being only in his _underwear_ and right there behind him.

With a deep breath, Dean closes his eyes and takes a moment to center himself. Today isn’t about underwear. It’s seeing Cas take _the sleep_ and opening this box. He’s pretty sure he knows what it is, and sure enough it’s exactly what he thought it would be. When he takes the lid off the box, there’s a crystal on a simple cord necklace nestled inside of it.

“I’m not sure if you’re allowed to wear jewelry when you’re working, but you should keep that where you’ll see it flash or feel it vibrate.” Cas explains over the rustling sound of fabric.

“I can definitely wear it and I’m never going to take it off.” Dean puts the box on the top of the short bookcase, careful not to disturb any of the origami that has been set out again. He puts the necklace on and tucks it into his shirt, patting where it rests against his chest for good measure.

Is it weird that he feels almost stupidly pleased that his _boyfriend_ gave him a gift already? Cas has given him things in the past, but this one just feels special now that they’re officially dating. Yeah, the necklace is meant more for his safety than anything else, but Dean is still excited to have gotten something new. Maybe it’s because they’re just heading into the sappy bubble of the honeymoon phase of their relationship, or it could be literally anything else. Whatever the case, Dean is just happy to have it.

A tap on the shoulder lets him know that he can turn around now. Cas is wearing what essentially looks like a sheet wrapped and pinned around his waist and thrown over his shoulder. It’s a makeshift toga just like what he was wearing the first time Dean saw him as the statue on the roof. Part of him wants to laugh at least a little bit because it’s a _toga_ , but instead he reaches over to give it a few tugs so it hangs better over his shoulder.

“There. Now you’re looking good.”

Cas smiles as he takes off his glasses. He puts them on the bookcase and steps forward. “I think we have a few minutes to spare?”

“I think so too.” Dean slings his arms around Cas’s shoulders; fingers brushing over a few feathers. “Y’got anything in mind to pass the time?”

“I should probably feed Nike.” He shrugs and leans into Dean’s hug, his feathers fluffing up as he folds his wings forward to curl around him.

Nike is currently sitting patiently on the bed, watching them both. Dean glances at her before he leans into Cas. “I can feed her after.”

“She’d like that, thank you.” Cas squeezes him around the waist. “Are you going to nap here after?”

“Hell yes I am.” Cue a jaw cracking yawn that Dean has to turn away for. “I’ve got three hours before my shift. Wild horses couldn’t keep me from going back to bed.” And it’s a goddamn blessing that Cas has given him the green light to use his bed on mornings like this.

A sympathy yawn has Cas covering his mouth with a hand. “Nike will like having someone to cuddle with for a while. She always gets bratty on the days when I take _the sleep_.”

Of course she does. Dean rolls his eyes before dipping in to steal a quick kiss. It makes Cas’s feathers rustle slightly and he hums. The sound is just so soft and happy that it sends a little shiver down Dean’s spine. If he had feathers of his own, they’d probably be rustling too – especially after Cas leans out of the kiss with one of the warmest smile he’s ever seen.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Dean raises an eyebrow and pointedly looks at Cas’s wings. “You have _more_ secrets?”

“I do.” Cas nods and he leans in to steal another kiss. “My secret is that I like kissing you.”

Holy _shit_. Dean has to bite back a whimper and he tightens his grip around his shoulder. That’s so fucking sappy and he’d be swooning if he wasn’t currently being mostly held up by Cas. Part of him _really_ wants to answer with something equally sappy, but all the words feel too over the top and they get stuck in his throat.

On the other hand, he can’t stop fucking _grinning_. “Me too.”

And their whole going ‘ _going slow_ ’ thing means that they haven’t even used tongue yet. If Cas likes these kisses, then Dean can’t wait to see how he’ll like a good ol’ fashioned make out session. But he likes that they’re taking it slow. He likes that he’s going to be learning about the romantic and sexual sides of Cas a little bit at a time. It’s going to be absolutely _amazing_. Hopefully.

Dean may or may not be a little bit too excited for it. He has most definitely come to terms with his attraction to guys, but he hasn’t had a chance to really _act_ on it. Lord knows that he’s danced up on enough guys and had a _very_ successful make out session with that scruffy guy in the club to know that he’s perfectly comfortable with all of the kissing, hugging, and touching. Oh holy _fuck_ he can’t wait for all the _touching_.

But this is all new to Cas. Yes, of course Dean wants to take things slow to reach certain sexual levels of their relationship, but he’s so goddamn _excited_. They’re going to move at Cas’s pace until he’s comfortable to try for more. He has no idea when that will be, but oh dear God does Dean have his fingers crossed that it’s soon. Sure, he’s nervous about sucking dick for the first time, but it’s definitely on his list of things he wants to try.

Maybe all this anticipation and desire to get to those good sexual parts is because he hasn’t had a steady partner since – since – Oh sweet Jesus, since when? Was it high school? That sounds about right. Okay, if it’s been _that_ long then Dean is definitely going to need to ease into this too. It should be like riding a bicycle _in theory_ , but it’s more like going from a regular bike to a unicycle or one of those old timey bikes with the giant front wheel and little back wheel. Those _can’t_ be easy to ride. So, yeah. Sex with a man isn’t going to be exactly the same as what he’s used to so he might have to ease into it. And Dean is _totally_ cool with that.

Speaking of cool, it’s in the low forties right now and the sun is going to be coming up soon. He takes one quick kiss before stepping back and taking Cas’s hands in his. “I hate to break up the kiss-fest right now but it’s bed time for you, huggy-bear.”

Cas pouts a tiny bit, but he doesn’t complain as Dean leads him to the roof. Despite the temperature drop over the night, he doesn’t even shiver until he sits down on the pedestal. He grimaces and shuffles back on it. “I can _not_ wait for summer.”

“I can.” Dean wrinkles his nose and, once again, thinks about a half dozen curse words directed at the sun. “Summer means that your nights are even _shorter_.”

Once again, Cas’s wings fluff up. He huffs lightly under his breath and pats Dean on the back of the hand. “If I put _the sleep_ off any longer than I should, I’m not going to give a damn about how short my nights are and you’re going to open a window just to stop the crankiness.”

“One of these days, I might just want to see _how_ cranky you get.” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows before stepping out of reach of Cas’s attempt to punch him on the shoulder. “But in all seriousness, it’s going to suck not having as much time to spend with you as we did over the winter.”

He rolls his eyes at Dean and his wings spread slightly in an almost intimidating display. “Don’t you _dare_ try adding guilt to this. We’re going to have enough trouble with syncing our schedules.” It’s all in a teasing tone, but those wings are making Dean’s pulse jump a bit.

“Ugh, _fine_.” For Cas’s sake, Dean sighs loudly and _acts_ all put out but it’s not as fake as he’s making it out to be. He really _does_ hate this whole scheduling conflict but he’s absolutely determined to make it work. If they were able to become good friends with this craziness, then they can damn well carry on a relationship through it too.

Cas snorts and shoves his shoulder. It sends Dean stumbling back a step before he’s catching his wrist and pulling him right back in. He guides Dean’s arm around his shoulders so he can lean into his side. Isn’t he just _adorable_? So frikken cute. Hopefully one day he’ll be able to show him off to literally everyone because this is the type of cute that the world needs to see. Also Dean is just too happy to be dating Cas that he needs to tell everyone.

They’re facing East and watch the horizon over the buildings, waiting for the sun. The conversation they strike up is something they can keep short and sweet – basically only catching up on how Cas’s shift went. It’s just a few minutes later when Cas stops in the middle of detailing about what Chuck was muttering to himself about his current book.

He sits up a little straighter. “Any minute now.”

“I know I’m supposed to be sad that you’re going to be AWOL until sunset, but I’m actually _super_ psyched to see this whole thing happen.” Dean steps away and turn to face him, already fit to start bouncing in excitement.

“It – It’s really nothing.” Cas’s wings fluff up again and he looks away; a blush building in his ears and _again_ it’s way too adorable.

Dean scoffs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, maybe it’s nothing to you because you’ve done it a million times over, but this is the first time for _me_.” He grins when Cas looks at him again. “You’re popping my stone cherry here, Cas.”

That gets him a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smile. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re a _dork_?”

“What?” Dean puts a hand on his chest in fake surprise. “Since _when_?”

“Since the first time we met.” Cas stifles a laugh and reaches out to grab the front of his sweater. “You’re just lucky that I find it _very_ endearing.”

He pulls him down for a kiss before any little quip can be made in response. The kiss muffles smothers Dean’s laugh, but it’s short as he relaxes into it. Kisses are _far_ more interesting than anything he could find amusing, and especially when one of Cas’s wings brushes against his shoulder. Has he mentioned how much he loves that Cas keeps doing that? It’s the fucking _best_.

A sharp crackling noise breaks the silence of the morning and just about gives Dean a heart attack. It’s so loud if only because of how close by it is. Literally. It sounds like it’s happening right beside Dean’s ear. He jerks back in surprise both from that and from the super weird feeling of the soft lips he was kissing suddenly being hard as stone. Pulling back doesn’t let him go very far because there is a glaringly obvious problem here. Cas has turned to stone with Dean’s sweater still held in his fist.

With a little bit of struggling, he manages to get the sweater off and he takes a step back to get the full picture of what happened. Cas is now frozen in place, leaning forward and up into the kiss with one hand on the edge of the pedestal and one of his wings arched forward. This feels so _surreal_ – more so than when he found the statue the first time because now he knows for a fact that this really _is_ Cas.

Dean reaches out to cover Cas’s fist with the sweater. He squeezes it lightly and steps in to kiss his stone lips again. “See you later, Cas.”

It’s not fair that he’s not going to be here to see Cas wake up this evening. But duty calls and he’s going to be down for his evening nap around that time. Dean did the math though and the next time that Cas will be waking up from _the sleep_ is a day off so he can definitely be here for _that_. For now, he’s going to try really hard not to think about how it happens. Though it can’t be all that different from how they would wake up in the old cartoon.

Nike is immediately curling around his ankles and meowing loudly when he walks back into the apartment. She gives him a dirty look and runs away when he reaches down to pet her or try to pick her up. Cats make no sense to him, but she’s probably pissed that Cas didn’t give her _any_ attention when they were here before. Dean rolls his eyes and goes to get the can of food that Cas had left on the kitchen counter.

As soon as he has it in his hand, Nike is suddenly his best friend again. She does her best to trip him up the whole way to the bedroom. It’s almost impossible to get the food from the can to her bowl when Nike is purring and meowing loudly while headbutting his hands or trying to get at it early. The moment the food is in her bowl, she goes face first into it and secures herself as the noisiest eater in the whole damn world.

With the cat fed, it’s time for a good few hours of napping before his shift starts. Dean sets some alarms on his phone as he closes the shade over the window and closes the curtains. He leaves the door open a crack so Nike can get in and out of the room if she wants to. He takes off his jeans because those are just annoying to sleep in. It’s so nice of Cas to give him the green light on using his bed on mornings like this. And it’s just such a comfortable bed too. Dean snuggles under the covers and very purposefully _doesn’t_ take really deep breaths when he nuzzles his face into the pillow.

He doesn’t need to get all giddy about sleeping in a bed that smells like Cas right now because it’s very possible that they’re only a few weeks away from sharing a bed. During their talk on Tuesday, and again on Wednesday, Cas said that he wouldn’t mind having Dean start sleeping over during the day. Of course that will only come _after_ they’ve tested the waters with this whole dating thing. If all is good, then they’ll take a few more steps and work their way up to sexual things.

Cas definitely stressed during their discussion that any sleepovers would be _just_ for sleeping. He wants to take it slow and Dean is behind him one hundred percent. The plan for now is that he’ll be coming over whenever he finishes a shift so the two of them can cuddle to sleep or something. They’ll talk about Cas coming to spend the day at his place only after Dean sun proofs it. Of course he’s going to get on that as soon as they’re both positive that this relationship thing between them is going to work out (though he’s pretty sure that it will).

In any case, things have only been looking up since Cas got back and Dean has been sleeping _very_ well the last few days. This morning is no different and he falls asleep very content with life.

*

**_Monday – May 23, 2016_ **

Finally. Fucking _finally_. Dean has been waiting _months_ for this. Ever since he figured out that Cas was a Gargoyle, he’s been looking forward to moments just like this. He’s finding it very hard to sit still and his knee is bouncing like crazy while sitting on the bench in Cas’s garden. It’s just as hard to keep his eyes strictly on Cas because he can’t stop glancing toward at the sun to see if it’s fucking _set_ yet. Does it always take this long for sunset? The weather app said it was supposed to happen like three minutes ago and yet it’s still clinging to the horizon like the world’s shiniest piece of shit.

On the bright side, this is the second time today that he’s been up here. Dean lucked out _hard_ this morning and was able to leave the station for a solid five minutes so he could be here for sunrise. They both know that he’s not always going to be able to be here for that, but he’d like to be. It’s just so _cool_ to see. And hell yes he actually _watched_ it this morning. He had Cas’s hands in his and held eye contact with him while the sun peeked over the horizon.

It was over in and instant with that weird crackling sound. Dean was reminded a bit of sci-fi movies when something instantly freezes over in space, or when they use liquid nitrogen. He honestly wasn’t sure if it would be a kind of blind-and-you-miss-it thing, or if the stone would just slide across Cas’s skin like some weird kind of body-condom. The change was a lot different back in the old _Gargoyles_ cartoon. When they changed in that, the animators just faded the skin to stone. That obviously can’t happen in real life, but it’s a little bit what Dean was hoping for.

Instead of that, the change just kind of _happened_. One second he was staring into baby blues. In the next, he was stone. Cas breathed in, but he didn’t breathe out. It really was one of those blink-and-miss-it moments. But it was awesome, nonetheless, and Dean’s glad he got to see it _twice_ (sorta). But this is the first time he’s going to see him wake up and he couldn’t be more excited. It was incredibly hard to actually get some rest today because of that.

After watching Cas turn to stone this morning, Dean went back to work. He finished up a few hours later and went home to shower and sleep. Or at least he _tried_ to sleep. He’s not really sure if he really _slept_ , but he did rest at least a little bit. The waiting is just _killing_ him. Dean checks his watch because his weather app said the sunset was going to be at something like twenty after eight or something and it’s just a few minutes shy of that now.

Cas told him that he needs to stay back for when he wakes up. That’s going to be really tough because Dean want to be right up beside him. But the bench is apparently the best vantage point, according to Gabriel. Seriously, though, how many times can he check his phone before the sun actually comes up? And maybe he needs to chill because he is really _too_ excited for this. Which is the sole blame for why he literally jumps in surprise at the first crack that echoes across the rooftop.

Dean turns all his attention on the statue, half rising out of his seat. There are cracks spider-webbing all over Cas; from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his wings. Dust and gravel start falling from his wings as they shift. A moment later and it all shatters as they spread wide. A rumbling growl accompanies the stretch as Cas raises his arms above his head and stands up from the pedestal. It sprays little pieces of stone in every direction and Dean has to shade his eyes while ducking his head to avoid it all.

With a loud yawn, Cas turns around. He flaps his wings and runs his hands through his hair several times to knock the last of the stone from it. A bright smile lights up his face when he sees him waiting. Dean stands up and Cas comes forward to wrap him in a hug, wings and all. The wings part is brief before they’re suddenly tucked up against his back again. It’s a little bit disappointing because Dean’s favourite part about Cas having his wings out is how they always curve towards him or around his shoulders.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Feathers.” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s cheek before leaning back. “We’ve got a couple hours before your shift starts. So, are you ready for something delicious?”

“I might actually come to like taking _the sleep_ if it means that I get to wake up to you making me breakfast while I take a shower.” Cas slings an arm around Dean’s shoulders and starts walking them towards the door. “Did you sleep well today?”

He shrugs and puts an arm around Cas’s waist. “It was alright.” Like hell he’s going to say he was super excited to see him wake up, because that sounds a little bit creepy. “Now let’s talk about my fee for making breakfast. What am I getting for it, huh?”

Cas hums as he leads the way down the stairs. He _sounds_ thoughtful, but there’s a sly smile on his lips as he glances over his shoulder. “I suppose I could cook the next one?”

While that _does_ sound good, Dean has something else in mind. “Try again.”

“What would you like, then?” Cas turns to him with a raised eyebrow once they’re in the kitchen.

Dean can’t even bother to hide his grin as he steps in, catching him around the waist again. “What do you think, hm?”

“Will you at least let me shower first?” Cas rolls his eyes but brings his arms up to rest them on Dean’s shoulders. “I always feel so gritty after taking _the sleep_.”

“No way!” Dean shakes his head and pulls Cas in closer until their foreheads bump. “If you shower, that means you’re going to put your wings away and then I’m going to be _sad_.”

A playful frown tugs at the corners of Cas’s mouth and he hums a low note. “I have the sneaking suspicion that you like my wings more than you like _me_.”

Oh _puh_ -leese. Dean rolls his eyes and steals a quick peck on the lips. “I’m pretty sure that we’re both aware that I liked you _before_ I learned that you had wings.”

That brings a blush to Cas’s cheeks. He ducks away to hide his face against Dean’s shoulder. It’s obvious that he’s trying to hide a smile, because he can totally feel it through his hoodie. Cas mumbles a semi-annoyed protest, but it’s so very adorable. Dean can’t resist sliding his hands up Cas’s back to push his fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings.

Before Cas can even react, there’s a ridiculously loud cough behind them. Dean groans and drops his head to Cas’s shoulder too. “Hi Gabriel.”

“Forgot I was here, did we?” His laugh is all _sorts_ of teasing and Dean doesn’t need to look to know that the jerk is probably leaning against the wall all smug and overbearing.

With a loud sigh, Cas lifts his head and steps out of Dean’s arm. “No, I did _not_ forget that you live here too.” His glare is positively glacial and thank God it’s not directed at him. Gabriel is on the receiving end of it and all it does is make him laugh.

“You want to preen?” Gabriel’s voice is the most grating thing on the planet and Dean turns around to give him a dirty glare of his own. It goes completely ignored as Gabriel holds up his pocket knife. “Are you going to shower with your wings out, or are you going to let me put them away?”

Cas brushes past Dean with a huff. “You _know_ that it’s nearly impossible to shower with my wings out.”

Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows and his grin turns downright evil. “Especially if Dean joins you, hm?”

A growl rumbles in Cas’s throat and his wings nearly double in size. It just makes Gabriel laugh and oh but Dean has never wanted to punch a guy more. He _hates_ being teased and he hates it even more that the teasing is being directed more at Cas than it is him. Dear God, he’s getting all sorts of protective and it’s on a whole different level than when it’s Sam. Not in a bad, really, but not a good way either. This is going to be something he needs to monitor.

In this case, he’s going to monitor it with his back to what’s going on. He’s got a meal to cook. He turns around and heads to the fridge. “You two do what you gotta do. I’m going to get started on supfast.”

“Supfast?” Cas turns around for Gabriel to do the blood sigils on his back.

“Supper for me and douche-mcgee over there, and breakfast for you.” Dean holds up a container of eggs and a block of cheese. “Supfast!”

Gabriel snorts a laugh; still amused but not half as teasing. “He’s a genius, Cassie. Keep him forever.”

Cas flares his wings and turns around sharply. He starts shoving Gabriel out of the kitchen with a few grumbled curses. “I’ll be right back, Dean. Please help yourself to everything else in the kitchen.”

“Already on it, babe.” Dean salutes his back and takes a minute to admire Cas’s ass as he walks away. The sheet doesn’t do it any justice, but it still looks good. There’s literally nothing that couldn’t make that butt look _amazing_.

He glances at the table to find Nike sitting on a chair and watching him with an expectant look. “You’re looking at the wrong thing there, girl.”

She meows at him and Dean snorts a laugh. Talking to the cat about Cas’s butt is a little bit weird, but it’s pretty hilarious. It’s also pretty perfect. If his evenings could go like this every night (minus Gabriel being a teasing jerk), Dean would be absolutely _beyond_ happy.

_** ** _

**_Thursday – May 26, 2016_ **

As nice as it is to be able to return to the apartment a few hours earlier than normal, Castiel legitimately despises how early the sun rises. For one, he actually _likes_ working. His job was one of the many things he missed when he was at the safe house. And being trapped in his apartment by the sun feels exactly like that. Before he was being held by the FBI and now he’s being held by the sun. He never used to care about this, but now he’s bothered by it and it’s entirely Dean’s fault.

The time between when he is forced to end his shift and when Dean’s work shift actually ends is a span of at least three hours. Castiel has to fill his time until then, and he’s most assuredly not going to bed for at least another few hours after that. It just feels like he doesn’t have enough time to do things when he’s governed by the sun like this – especially on the days that he has to take _the sleep_. At least he has Dean stopping in to look forward to.

Since the new beginning of their relationship, and Castiel’s return to work, they have a certain ritual on the mornings that Dean finishes work. He has made it a point to come over after every one of his shifts for a _goodnight kiss_ , so to speak. As far as he’s concerned, it hasn’t happened enough for his liking. Castiel looks forward to those from the moment he wakes up. He might also spend way more time thinking about kissing Dean than he probably should. In all fairness, though, they are _ridiculously_ addicting and he wants them almost all the time.

Dean’s brief visit and his goodnight kisses are the entire reason that Castiel is currently sitting on the coffee table and staring at his phone. His shift ended over half an hour ago. He gave Nike a cuddle, changed into his workout clothes, and has been sitting here ever since. Technically speaking, he should have started getting ready to start exercising as soon as he’s dealt with the one problem that has him rooted to the table.

It is taking him _forever_ to build up the courage needed to tell Dean that he’s ready for the next step. Or the next step as _he_ considers it. Every time Castiel takes the sleep, Dean tries to be here for when he goes to sleep or wakes up. They make the effort to hang out as often as they can despite the differences in their sleeping and work schedules. Dean is just so sweet to put up with it all. Castiel adores him for it and he wishes he could be here all the time.

Of course it is _far_ too early for them to even consider moving in together. Probably. Castiel is maybe not the best authority on the pace of relationships – or relationships in general. Besides that, moving in together just feels wrong at this point in time. He doesn’t want to leave Gabriel or their apartment. This is a space where he feels safe _all_ the time. Dean’s home is certainly lovely, and it’s not even that far, but it’s not located as close to emergency services as Castiel would like it to be. It also has so many windows with next to no sun-proofing at all.

Before he could even think of spending the day over at Dean’s, they would need to get all their windows covered properly. That could end up being expensive, not to mention unfair to Dean’s roommates. Charlie and Jo sometimes have the same day off as him. What if they’re home at the same time as Castiel’s visit? He would have to deprive them both of sunlight anywhere in the house for him to be able to move freely.

If anything, Dean would probably only sun-proof his bedroom, which would mean Castiel would be effectively trapped in one room. What if he has to go to the bathroom? He’s never used the upstairs bathroom at Dean’s house. Does it have a window? He’s almost positive that it does, if the window placements that he’s seen from outside the house mean anything. Would Dean even think to cover up that window?

It just feels so _weird_ to think about sleeping over at his place right now. And that feeling is completely in conflict with how he wants Dean to be around all day every day. Castiel wanted to see him _so much_ while he was in hiding and that feeling has only gotten worse since he came home. Dean is just so _accessible_ to him. Not only that, but he _wants_ to be with Castiel just as much. They both want to be together constantly and _that_ is why he’s been sitting here just staring at his phone.

Castiel is finding it far too hard to work up the nerve to hit send on the message that he typed out several minutes ago. He can do this. He can absolutely do this. He’s texted Dean countless times over the course of their friendship and, ultimately, their relationship. This particular message isn’t any different. He’s just asking Dean if he wants to sleep over when he’s done his shift. That’s a totally normal thing to ask one’s _boyfriend_. So then why can’t he hit this stupid button?

Nike rubs against his ankle. She stretches up to put her paws on his knee and holds one out to him with a meow. He puts his phone aside and picks her up, cradling her in the crook of one arm. While she makes herself comfortable, he picks up his phone again. If Castiel can adopt a cat he found on the street, and make a friend with a complete stranger like Dean was, then he can hit send. Right? Right.

He takes a deep breath before doing just that. The moment the message is officially sent, he throws his phone on the couch. Now it’s off limits until he’s finished with his work out. No matter whether it rings or beeps, Castiel is _not_ going to answer it. Not that he’s going to hear it or anything. It’s currently on silent so he won’t be distracted by it. Checking his messages will be his reward after he’s finished. Or, rather, this is more a punishment for not having worked out in a while. He didn’t do it even once while he was in hiding and it’s starting to show.

With Nike still in his arms, he stands up to start with squats. It takes him only fifteen minutes or so to finish his workout, but he drags it out for as long as he can. By the time he’s done with his _very slow_ sit ups, push ups, and squats, Nike is practically laying on his phone in her dramatic flop across the couch. She makes a soft chirrup and gives Castiel a dirty look as he moves her tail out of the way to pull the phone out from underneath her.

Oh Lord. The light is flashing. He _does_ have a notification. Castiel’s heart thuds painfully before he pushes the power button to turn the screen on. Dean’s name shows in the notification bar and he swallows thickly before unlocking his phone. Since he and Dean are dating now, he’s password protected his phone to keep Gabriel from trying to sneak it and spy on him. He’s done it before and he probably would again if it wasn’t for the password.

 ** _I would love to!_ ** Dean’s first message ends with a very excited looking smiley face. His second message is far more troublesome. **_Want me to shower at the station or there?_**

Castiel stops mid-walk on his way up to the hallway. Nike walks right into the back of his calf and meows unhappily. She immediately flops on her side and starts kicking and chewing at the cuff of his sweatpants. He hardly even notices it as he stares at his phone. His brain has essentially walked right into a brick wall and he’s having a hard time coming to terms with what he just read.

Dean. Showering. Dean showering _here_? Dean showering here _naked_? Oh dear God, Castiel can’t function past that. Anytime he even _tries_ to think about taking the sexual step in their relationship, his brain just _stops_. Kissing Dean is excellent and he loves it; cuddling with Dean on the couch while they watch a movie is excellent and he loves it. But both are entirely different compared to the two of them being naked together. Why does his brain break whenever he tries to contemplate Dean not wearing his clothes? That _is_ something that he wants eventually, but this mental roadblock isn’t helping.

After a few minutes of standing in the hallway on the verge of what might very well be hyperventilating, Castiel manages to reign himself in to respond. **_I think it would be best if you were to shower at work..._**

Within moments, Dean answers with another smiley face. **_Got it! See you in a few hours!_**

He ends his message with a kissing, winking emoji. Castiel’s face grows _extremely_ hot and he all but sprints the rest of the way to the bathroom. He yanks the curtain back and starts the shower running, making sure to turn it all the way to _cold_. It’s going to be a truly terrible shower, but at least he won’t be struck by any _problems_ while in there. Wait! Castiel stops with his pants around his ankles and his shirt halfway over his head.

There is a fundamental flaw with his plan. He’s asked Dean to sleep over, which means that they’re going to be sharing a bed. They might very well _cuddle_ to sleep for all he knows. They’ll be pressed up together in a state of undress and it’s very, very, _very_ possible that his body is going to react in inappropriate ways. Perhaps it would be better for him to take a hot shower now to ensure that his body doesn’t do anything while they’re trying to get to sleep.

Honestly, though, Castiel isn’t really sure how long it will take him to fall asleep. When he goes to bed at his normal time, he usually sleeps for eight or nine hours. This is different, though. He’s going to bed _much_ earlier than normal simply because Dean is going to bed too and he wouldn’t want to _not_ join him. That said, if Castiel does manage to sleep his full hours as per normal, Dean will likely be awake earlier than him so he can sleep normal hours overnight to keep his sleep schedule on track.

Either way, Castiel is going to have a _very_ difficult time going to sleep and especially if his body reacts while they’re in such close proximity together. It doesn’t help that they’re going to be in the _bed_ that happens to be the setting of his one and only sexual fantasy that he’s had about them. Any other time that he’s had to masturbate, which is not something he does often, has been done of necessity and with a carefully curated blank mind.

That is, unfortunately, not happening right now. Castiel groans and throws his shirt aside. He leans forward and twists the tap in the opposite direction. It looks like he’s going to do this, if only so they can sleep comfortably without any _issues_. As soon as the water has warmed up, he drops his underwear and steps out of them right into the tub. He closes the curtains and leans forward to thump his head against the wall. The water feels _so good_ , but he can’t quite enjoy it knowing what he’s about to do.

Nike meows from the toilet lid and he hears the solid thump as she jumps to the counter then to the medicine cabinet. Castiel leans his head back to find her peeping at him over the curtain rod, meowing in concern. Would she do the same thing if Dean was in the shower instead? She doesn’t seem to care too much whenever Gabriel is the one in here. From what he can tell, Nike likes Gabriel better than she does Dean, so maybe she wouldn’t?

Oh, he should maybe not think about that. It’s counterproductive to what he’s going to try to do. Though he should definitely keep thinking about Dean in the shower. That will help matters immensely. He’ll just think about Dean wet, soapy, and naked. He’ll rub one out and hopefully his body won’t decide to sucker-punch him by getting aroused later on when he’s sharing a bed with Dean. And that brings up something else he hadn’t thought about.

How could he have forgotten one of the most important questions of all! What does Dean wear when he sleeps? Is it underwear? In the nude? Pajamas? Dear God, does he have pajamas with him or should Castiel offer to loan him a pair of his? Would they even fit him? No, that’s a silly question. Of course they would. Castiel likes his pajamas a little loose and they’re both relatively similar in physique.

Castiel’s heart rate is starting to rise and he swallows thickly around another surge of anxiety. Maybe he should just cancel all of this. Maybe he’s not ready for this. They haven’t even been dating for a full two weeks and it was just his selfish desire to spend more time together that led him to sending that text message. Is it considered rushing things to ask him to sleep over after only dating for _ten days_? Castiel doesn’t want Dean to think that he’s rushing things.

He just – he wants to cuddle. It’s so _nice_. Dean is so solid and warm, and he smells so good. It makes him feel safe, even if all they’re doing is watching a movie. A nice cuddle is all he wants right now. The thought of doing anything more than that makes him queasy, so he knows without a doubt that he’s not exactly ready for _more_ right now. Gabriel will kill him if he throws up in the shower, so he needs to change mental gears right now and focus on the task at hand. Even if that’s a little bit along the same lines. Oh, Castiel _needs_ to stop making things harder for himself.

With a shaky sigh, he drops into a crouch and rests his forehead on the edge of the tub. As much as he adores Dean and spending time with him, Castiel hopes to God that he won’t feel like this often. He’s going to have a _very_ difficult time if he can’t trust his body around him. If it would just stop getting all tingly and warm whenever they hug or kiss, then maybe he would be okay. And hopefully Dean won’t try to kiss him once they’re in bed. A quick goodnight peck before getting into bed should be acceptable, but anything else might send Castiel into a panic attack.

Oh dear God, he hopes he’s as ready for this as he wants to be.

*

Castiel can hear Dean coming up the stairs well before he actually knocks at the door. Even then, he still flinches slightly and tightens his grip on the mug of tea in his hand. He’s been sitting at the kitchen table with a book ever since he got dressed after his shower. Nike has been enjoying his lap and her presence has been essential in helping keep his calm as the time ticked by. He puts his book down and drops a hand to Nike’s back to hold her in place, in case she tries to make a run for the door.

“Come in.”

Dean lets himself in and pauses to lock the door behind him. He flashes Castiel a smile as he toes off his shoes. “Hey.” The kitchen is small and he crosses it to press a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. “Long time no see.”

They saw each other earlier in the night when Dean came in for his late night coffee run. Castiel rolls his eyes and huffs a quiet laugh under his breath. It’s this adorably playful side to Dean that caught his eye in the first place, and he hopes that he never loses it. He takes a sip of his tea and smiles as Dean drops into the seat next to him; immediately reaching over to scratch Nike behind the ears.

“So, how was the rest of your shift?” Dean props his elbow on the table and rests his cheek on his fist.

Rarely does Castiel have any interesting stories related to his job. The night shift is usually very quiet. He shrugs and takes another draw from his tea. “It was fairly boring, as expected. What about you?” As a firefighter, Dean generally has _much_ more going on than him.

Tonight does not seem to be the case. Dean shrugs and shakes his head. “Pretty quiet, I guess. We had one non-emergency call for a kid who got in a fight with his parents and stormed out. Hid in the backyard up a tree for a bit and got stuck.” A smile plays in the corner of his mouth. “Turns out no one had a big enough ladder to get him down so they had to call for us. And then we had a few other calls from people experiencing chest pains. It was the usual, y’know?”

Oh yes, the _usual_. Castiel can’t fathom working in a position like Dean’s and he admires his ability to not only do the job but _thrive_ in it. His own anxiety would never be able to handle it. Honestly, it took a _very_ long time, lots of hard work, and nothing short of a miracle for him to even be able to work his _current_ job. There are still moments where he feels a little overwhelmed, but Castiel powers through it and he’s never been more proud of himself.

Nike slaps at Dean’s hand and rolls over in Castiel’s lap, announcing that her scratching limit has been met. When Dean reaches for her again, she grabs at his hand to try and bite it. He retracts it quickly and instead slings it around Castiel’s shoulders; scooting his chair closer too. With a hum, Castiel leans into his side and closes his eyes, savouring the calming feeling he gets. The shower and the soothing tea have helped ease his anxiety regarding their sleeping situation, and this helps too – oddly enough.

“You feeling tired there, buddy?” Dean drops his voice into a whisper and shifts to rest his cheek against the top of Castiel’s head. “You ready to go to bed?”

No, he’s not particularly tired, and no, he’s not quite ready for bed; but he’s going to do it. Castiel needs to push his boundaries, and this is one that he’s ready to do – even if his nerves are trying to tell him otherwise. This is going to be a _good_ thing, and it’s going to help continue their relationship along a path that he _does_ want to follow. He just wants to take it slow and ease his way into it. Because maybe he was wrong; maybe he _isn’t_ a demi-sexual and he’s actually not interested in sex at all. That’s unlikely, given what he just did in the shower, but it’s still a possibility.

Castiel takes a deep breath and wraps both hands around the mug. “W-what are you going to be sleeping in?”

“Depends on how hot it is in your bedroom.” Dean hums and drums his fingers on his shoulders. “I’m fine with pajamas if it’s cool in there. If it’s warm, then I’ll downgrade to a t-shirt and my underpants. And if it’s too damn hot, then I’ll be going to underwear only.”

That’s about what Castiel expected, and he knows which one he would prefer. This is exactly why he turned up the cool air in the apartment. It’s not unbearably hot in here normally, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“I find it fine, and I set out a pair of pajamas for you on my bed in case you needed them.” He sits up straighter and gestures over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to go change, if you would like.” Castiel pauses and rolls his lips under his teeth for a moment. “Can I just ask that if – if you get _too warm_ , could you at least leave the pajama pants on?”

Dean leans back in his chair and fixes him with a thoughtful squint. After a moment, he sighs and leans forward to try and catch his eye again. “You’ve been stressing out about something. You wanna tell me what’s up, buttercup?”

“Oh God, do I really look that bad?” Castiel runs a hand over his face. He had washed it in the shower and again while the water was boiling for his tea because he still looked fairly haggard. Most likely that was caused by what he did _during_ said shower.

“You look as hot as you always do.” Dean reaches up to poke him in the cheek. “I’m just trying to find out what’s on your mind, you dork.”

That was obvious, but Castiel doesn’t exactly want to say _why_ he’s been waffling on having a full blown panic attack for the last few hours. Rather than answer, he simply shrugs and looks down at his tea again. It’s almost empty and he can’t particularly drag it on for much longer.

Dean hums again. “Can I hazard a guess?” He doesn’t wait for Castiel to answer. “Is it about you asking me to sleep over?”

Ah, painfully astute as always. Castiel can’t bring himself to look up again. “Perhaps?”

Of all things, he didn’t expect Dean to laugh. He leans in and presses a kiss to Castiel’s temple. “I don’t _have_ to stay if you don’t want me to. We’re moving faster than we would be if we were in high school, but that’s because we’re adults and we can move as fast or as slow as we want to.”

When Castiel wrinkles his nose and Dean taps the end of it. “We’ve also been best friends for _months_ , so we’re skipping the whole beginning part of the relationship where new couples would be feeling each other out.”

That makes sense, but still. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“We’re not, Cas.” Dean laughs and shakes his head. “We’re going at our own pace, and if you don’t want me to sleep over because you’re not ready for it, then I don’t have to. I can totally go home right now.”

Castiel drops his hand to Dean’s knee and squeezes it. “No, I want you to stay. I just –” He pauses, unsure of how to word this without sounding like an ass.

Apparently he doesn’t have to finish his thought, because Dean raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. “Let me guess; you’re worried that I’m gonna jump you the moment we’re in bed. Am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re not _entirely_ right.” He huffs and brings his mug to his lips. “I don’t think you would _actually_ do that.” But he just can’t shake the concern he has that Dean might try to push for things that Castiel hasn’t really worked himself up to yet.

With a sigh, Dean uses the back of Castiel’s chair to help push himself to his feet. “I’m gonna level with you, Cas. Any form of sexy time is _far_ from my mind right now.” As punctuation, he ends his sentence with a yawn and stretches his arms above his head. “I’ve been on shift for twenty-four hours. I had a nice shower and any _urges_ I might have had were dealt with. All I want to do right now is go to bed and, since we’re being honest here, get spooned to sleep.”

“You want to be the little spoon?” Castiel lowers his mug and looks up at him. He had expected the spooning, as that’s just another form of cuddling, but he had assumed that Dean would want to be the big spoon. When they cuddle on the couch, he’s generally the one lying back and pulling Castiel down to lay on top of him.

A wide grin spreads and Dean bobs his head in a nod. “Absolutely! I’ve never been the little spoon when sleeping and I want to try it. Consider this me calling dibs on it.” He winks and jerks a thumb towards the hallway. “What’d’ya say, Cas? Y’wanna spoon me?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows as the cherry on top of the rest of his silliness.

It’s enough to make Castiel smother a laugh behind his mug again. “I could be persuaded.

“Good, because I’m _exhausted_.” Dean rolls his shoulders, arching his back enough that Castiel can hear his spine popping. “And if you’re uncomfortable while we’re sleeping, feel free to wake me up and boot my ass to the couch. I can pretty much fall asleep _anywhere_ after a shift.”

“I would never send you to the couch.” Castiel shakes his head and knocks back the last of his tea. “If anything, I would just go use Gabriel’s bed.”

Dean hums a thoughtful note. “Good point. Well, I’m going to go get changed. You finish up in here and come join me when you’re ready.”

He leans down, obviously going to press another kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. As endearing as those are, he’d much rather a regular one. As such, he tilts his face up to meet him for one. It’s just a soft little peck, but it still leaves Castiel wanting more. He _always_ wants more. Kissing Dean is so strangely addiction to him and sometimes he has trouble believing that there was ever a time when he _didn’t_ want to do that.

Castiel licks his lips and twists in his seat just enough so he can watch Dean shuffle off down the hallway. His tea is already finished, so all he has to do is shoo Nike from his lap, rinse the mug, and brush his teeth. He takes far longer than necessary to do any of that, drawing it out to give Dean the chance to change clothes. Fantasies aside, Castiel would like to save seeing each other in states of undress for a time when he’s feeling a lot less anxious.

Nike follows him to the bedroom, ducking in and out of his path to try and rub against his legs. She has already been fed, but she’ll still try and charm something more out of him before he goes to bed. Unfortunately for her, she’s going to have to wait until Gabriel’s shift is done. He’ll feed her later this afternoon. Until then, she’ll have free range of the apartment. Even with all her freedoms, she still tends to sleep with him when he sleeps.

Dean is sitting on the edge of the be wearing the simple white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants that Castiel had provided for him. He stands up with a smile and gestures over his shoulder. “I forgot a big question; which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

That’s a very good question and it’s not one that even occurred to Castiel. He points to the left side from where he’s standing at the end of the bed. “There, usually.” It’s closest to the door and the light switch – which is apparently going ignored right now. Dean has it off and the only light in the room is from the lamp on the table next to Castiel’s side of the bed.

“Great!” Dean heads to the right side of the bed. “I always sleep on this side when I’m at home, so we’re golden on that front.”

Nike jumps up on the bed and Castiel gestures at her. “She sleeps wherever she wants. I usually leave the door open just a crack for her to come and go. Is that alright with you?”

He shrugs and flips the blanket back from the head of the bed. “Sure? I can sleep in any level of light, so I don’t mind if there’s a little crack of light in the room.”

Nike is already making herself comfortable at the foot of the bed. Castiel, on the other hand, shifts on his feet while he stands opposite of Dean. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’ve never shared a bed before.” Dean rolls his eyes with a little laugh and gestures down at the pillows. “You grew up with a brother, didn’t you?”

“You are _not_ my brother, Dean.” This situation is nowhere near the same as the few times he used to crawl into Gabriel’s bed whenever he had a nightmare. Actually, Castiel should probably keep that in mind. Thinking about his brother should really kill any _mood_ that may or may not develop.

He  doesn’t expect that to cause a smirk or a wink. “I know. I’m cuter.” Dean sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him. “Now let’s give this a try. We’re just sleeping, remember?”

Castiel nods, swallows against the rising tide of nerves, and lifts the blankets on his side. They both slide under the covers together and get themselves comfortable. After a moment, Castiel reaches over to turn off the light. His night vision is excellent and the minimal light coming through the door is more than enough for him to see by. It’s doing an excellent job of letting him see the _ceiling_ , because that’s what he’s keeping his eyes firmly fixed on.

After several long moments, Dean clears his throat loudly. “So – uh – are you going to be the big spoon to my little spoon or what?”

With a quiet groan, Castiel covers his face with his hands. “I’ve never been a spoon before.”

Dean sighs softly and drags a gentle touch across the back of his hand. Slowly, he pulls Castiel’s hand away and links their fingers together. “Would you rather be the little spoon for our first sleepover?”

“You called dibs.” He rolls onto his side to face him. Even though he’s never spooned, Castiel knows exactly what to do.

“Then get over here.” Dean rolls away and tugs Castiel after him. It leaves one of his arms folded awkwardly between them and the other gets wrapped over Dean’s side as he wiggles back against him with a happy sigh. “Fucking _knew_ it. Being the little spoon is the absolute _best_.”

Is it? Is this actually good? Castiel can’t tell. His whole body is ridiculously rigid. He’s frozen solid and he can’t move. It takes him minutes upon minutes upon minutes before he’s actually able to relax. Even then he’s not sure he’s going to be able to sleep. Not only is this a few hours earlier than normal, but now he has Dean in his bed and this is something that could potentially be catastrophic if his earlier shower antics weren’t enough to keep such  catastrophe at bay.

Of course he’s just being dramatic. There’s nothing wrong with this. If anything, the longer they lie together, the calmer he gets. Castiel tucks his nose against the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. Dean smells like shampoo and soap. And he’s just _so warm_. Is it even humanly possible for people to be this warm? Regardless, it’s rather nice and it’s certainly helping Castiel get comfortable.

With a happy sigh, Dean squeezes his hand tightly. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“It’s not night time, Dean.” He smiles against the back of his neck and hugs him closer. Now he’s starting to really see what makes spooning so good.

“Shuddup.” Dean muffles a yawn by turning his face into the pillow. “I’ll try not to wake you when I get up later. Promise.”

Castiel hums in acknowledgement and press his nose into Dean’s hair. The longer they spoon, the more he likes it. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen and living room. Though I should warn you that Gabriel will be off work by then.” He gets a sleepy grunt in response and Castiel presses a kiss to the back of his neck. “Sleep well, Dean.”

It’s starting to get difficult to remember what he was so worried about earlier. This is _wonderful_ and he’s already starting to look forward to when they can do this again, _and_ when it will be his turn to be the little spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately Purgatory-Jar's art is still missing. It's our hope to come back and add them to these chapters once she finds the time to do the art. Be sure to keep an eye out in future chapters so you can come back and see it! You can view her other non-GYS (but still totally fucking AMAZING) art on [her tumblr](http://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com). Send her a nice note and let her know you're looking forward to it ♥


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